


Ficlets from the Sin Pit

by Felixbug



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Bondage, Coming Untouched, Face Slapping, Facials, Fluff, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Lyrium, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possession, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Smut, Spit Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4180935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short pieces from my Tumblr, warm-up drabbles and other assorted filth will be collected here! Tags will be updated any time I add something new, but expect mostly mHawke/Anders/Justice ot3 smut, probably not connected to any of my other fics/BTS continuity. Pairings are in the chapter titles, feel free to leave requests in the comments or on Tumblr!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anders/Justice - Facial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as a warm-up on the first day of #justicepositive on Tumblr

“Beautiful.” Justice’s voice was a purr, thick and dark as it coiled around him. Anders’ eyes watered, blurring his vision into splintered blue – the light from his lover’s skin. “Continue.”

An impossibly strong hand tightened in his hair, and Anders’ moan was muffled against Justice’s rigid length. It stretched his lips, forcing wet trickles over his chin with every thrust, and pressed heavily against his tongue. The blunt, leaking head was thrust down his throat once more, and he swallowed around it with a low groan. He and Justice knew their body well, and outside the Fade either one could break the other down into shaken gasps with ease – but this was something more. It didn’t feel like a dream when Justice tugged his head back and began to thrust. The smeared pre-come on his tongue did not taste imagined, and the hand that wrapped tight around his straining throat was _so real._ It was warm, solid, and bruisingly tight. Here, they had two bodies – they had each other.

“Mine.”

There was command in Justice’s voice – this was his world, and the Fade bent to his will as easily as Anders did. He lived for this, here on his knees with Justice’s nails digging into his flesh like claws, with those burning, blazing eyes staring down at him. This was what he wanted – what he needed. To be dominated, controlled – _possessed._

Justice’s thrusts sped up, and Anders eagerly moved to meet them. He pressed his tongue against Justice’s cock, tasting salt and lyrium, and feeling the raw hum of power in each glowing crack across his skin. He sucked hard, cheeks hollowing, and heard the ragged catch in Justice’s breath. He was on his knees but there was power in this. He was a mortal in a world not meant for him, but it was _his_ mouth leaving Justice’s thighs shaking - _his_ tongue that flicked and swept, and drew the first harsh grunt from Justice’s lips.

“Show me,” Justice snarled, his grip bruising Anders’ neck, the tugs on his hair becoming sharper, more insistent. “Show me your desire, mortal.”

Anders filled his mind with imagination and memory, every thought begging for one thing, for what he needed – a plea without words that resonated between them, desire so intense he felt Justice shudder from the pull of it. Anders begged, but Justice broke.

“Yes,” Justice panted, hunching forward with a sharp cry. “Anders – yes, _yes._ ”

His hand slid from Anders’ neck to the base of his cock. A sharp twist in Anders’ red-gold hair pulled him back, face upturned and lips open, slick with spit and swollen from the stretch and friction. He gasped for breath, gazing up into Justice’s penetrating gaze as Justice stroked his cock.

Once, twice, fingers skimming over the glowing tip, and a third, final stroke brought him shuddering over the edge. His lips twisted, connected by a single glowing strand of saliva as his snarl became a roar, and a hot, thick splash of come streaked Anders’ parted lips. Anders moaned, tongue darting out to capture the Fade-tinged taste, and Justice’s cock pulsed again, spilling glowing fluid across his cheek and into the tousled mass of his hair.

Justice dropped to his knees, hands shaking as he cupped Anders’ face. He drew him closer, and together on their knees Justice could show that he was not so different from his mortal lover. His touch turned gentle, his face softened, and when his lips met Anders’ they were soft and warm and _whimpering_ into his open, eager mouth.


	2. Anders/Justice - Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warm-up ficlet written on the first day of #justicepositive - thanks to Fethermage for the prompt!

Justice presses Anders against the wall, bare chest to bare chest, matched hands clawing at each other’s belts as trousers are pushed down over identical bony hips. Their kisses are frantic – all teeth and tongue and wet, slick lips that drag messily down over stubbled jawlines. Anders’ tongue darts out to trace a burning bright crack and Justice snarls at the tug at his essence – he needs more, _now._ Justice slides his hands into Anders’ hair, knocking the tie loose roughly, not caring where it falls as the silky strands cascade around his fingers. He bites Anders’ lip, growls at the whimper he hears in return, and twists his fingers in the red-gold waves until his knuckles brush Anders’ scalp. He pulls – hard – and Anders yelps and melts against him. Justice runs his tongue from collarbone to ear, and closes his teeth around the gold ring that hangs there. He nips, sucks, soothes the indents with a flicker of tongue – and Anders’ hardness matches his own as he arches, strains, and grinds against him.

“You look as I remember you,” Justice pants as Anders drops to his knees. His hair is in loose waves around his face, and strands are clinging to his damp lips. He looks up – deep gold eyes through dark lashes – and a smirk plays over his kiss-bruised mouth. “On the day we met, when you welcomed me to your world.” With the new jewellery in his ear – a gift from Hawke – and the growing cascade of hair around his face, Anders could be ten years younger. “I wanted you then,” Justice admits, and feels no surprise from Anders’ mind. “I want you now.”

They are not in Anders’ world – they are in Justice’s – the only place where they can still touch. And they do – they touch as if they are the only two beings left in the world, as if they will die tomorrow, and when Anders’ lips part for him Justice cannot help but moan. Anders presses open-mouthed kisses up his shaft, he draws invisible patterns with the tip of his tongue, and Justice cannot deny that he begs within his mind for _more,_ even as he clenches his hands in the liquid silk of Anders’ hair and drags him forward. He thrusts between his lips, into the tightness of his throat, and Anders swallows him down with practised ease. His chin drips drool with every slow, steady thrust, and when Justice pulls back he swirls his tongue around the tip. His lips part, and Justice’s tugging at his hair becomes more insistent, more urgent. Anders traces the wet slit, and Justice watches him gather the liquid beaded there.

“Your hair,” Justice pants as he presses Anders face down onto the mattress. He doesn’t know which of them has dreamed up Anders’ room at Vigil’s Keep, the fireside where they talked for hours and the bed Justice’s eyes were sometimes drawn to. There were things he could not have then – but Anders offers them all freely now. “Your hair is – it is how I imagined it would be. To touch – to grip – to hold you down.” Anders’ legs part for him, and his hips roll against the blankets as the mage whimpers and grips the pillows. “When you spoke of your anger,” Justice growls, thrusting oiled fingers into the tight clench of his ass. “When you spoke of freedom.” Anders’ hips jerk, and Justice clenches his fist in the soft cloud of blond hair. “I wanted things I did not understand. I wanted – I wanted…” his breath catches as he slips another finger inside, feeling Anders’ pleasure echoing across their minds. “I wanted to _worship_ you,” he growls, and he presses Anders’ head down as he pushes roughly into him.

Every inch of him is perfect – lean, muscular thighs tensing as Justice’s knees force them further apart, the spread cheeks of his ass framing his stretched, slicked entrance. Justice watches his glowing length pounding into him, rumbling low in his chest at the sight. Anders is so tight, so hot around him, and he speeds up his thrusts to watch his cock ramming deep into his eager body. He drags his gaze up, over narrow hips, a toned, scarred back, the scattering of freckles across his shoulders. He sees Anders’ fingers clenched tightly in the pillows, and the beautiful pink flush on the back of his neck as every thrust forces needy little whines from his throat. They’re muffled like this, and Justice coils his hair around his fingers and pulls his head back with a snarl. That’s how he wants him – straining and arched, his hair bouncing around his shoulders as every snap of Justice’s hips jolts his body against the bed. Between the hand in his hair and the fingers kneading his ass, Anders is helpless beneath him, and his moans grow louder, pitch higher, as Justice’s cock stretches and fills him. The wet sounds of his thrusts mingle with Anders’ cries and Justice thinks it might be enough just to _hear_ him, that he would not need this slick heat around his cock – if he could just keep the silky tangle of hair balled in his fist, and the way Anders screams his name as he sinks deeply into him once more. Justice hunches over him, buries his teeth in Anders’ shoulder, and comes with a muffled roar against his skin.

“You are beautiful,” he murmurs as they lie face to face, his hand working Anders’ cock fast and skilled, thumb sweeping over the head. Anders’ face is flushed and he bites his lip, his fingers digging into Justice’s bicep as he clings to him and his hips roll urgently up to meet each stroke of his fist. “You are unique – you are – you are everything.” Anders nods, too far gone for coherent words or even thought. He whimpers, and his hair falls around his face in a cloud as he leans forward to kiss Justice eagerly. It’s sloppy and urgent, and Anders’ moans hum against Justice’s lips as his hair slides forward to brush his cheek. Justice opens his eyes and he can see the firelight gleaming through it, burning gold fills his vision, and he slides his free hand up into the soft halo of strands. No pressure, no pain – he cups Anders’ head and holds him close as Anders’ pleasure builds, peaks, and climaxes. Anders groans against his lips, and he spills over Justice’s hand with a last gasp of his name.


	3. Justice/Hawke - 5 Senses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as a warm-up on day 2 of #justicepositive - a little long for a ficlet really, but it was an hour's timed writing so I'm sticking it here :P Warnings for reference to serious injury (not shown), and blood.

SIGHT

The mortals were lit by starlight, silver-blue filtering through the canvas tent. Anders almost glowed, planes of pale skin descending into inky shadows between their nude bodies. Hawke pulled him close, a hand rough on his ass, and Justice looked through Anders’ eyes. Hawke’s black hair was tousled and oily, his skin was cracked and peeling across his nose and cheeks where the sun had caught him – but his lips were soft, and when his tongue slipped out to dampen them, they gleamed in the low light.

“You’re beautiful,” Hawke murmured, and he leaned in.

Anders’ eyes fluttered closed, cutting off Justice’s vision. He hovered in Anders’ mind, and although he tried not to, he thought of Hawke. The teasing smirk that so often played across his lips, the warm depths of his eyes, and the callouses on his palms. He felt Hawke’s groan against Anders’ lips, and the warmth of Hawke’s body above him as Anders rolled onto his back. When Anders opened his eyes, Hawke’s face was inches from theirs, his full lips parted softly.

“I love you,” Anders said, and Justice hoped that Hawke could see in his eyes that when he said _I,_ he meant _we._

SMELL

Justice lay in the dark, face close against Hawke’s chest. He was wrapped up in the warm, hairy bulk of him, breathing against his skin. The mortals slept, but Justice did not. He inhaled the scent of skin, and let himself imagine.

Hawke smelled of blood and sweat, and more often than not, of his mabari. It was a scent that made Justice growl low in his chest, a scent of battle that reminded him of what had drawn him to Hawke. Fear and rage clouding his mind, drowning in white-hot fury at the abuses they discovered beneath the Gallows, Hawke had looked him in the eye – him, not just Anders.

_We’ll kill them all, I promise._

Hawke shifted in his sleep, and Justice was left draped across his broad, muscular back. Hawke’s body contoured to his, skin pressed close against skin. Justice was left with a face full of Hawke’s hair – and just this once, in the silent darkness while Anders slept and could not panic at his attention – Justice let himself inhale deeply.

The mingled scents that made up _Hawke_ made him gasp, made him long for more. He imagined Hawke waking, arching his back to tangle his own fingers in Justice’s hair, bodies writhing together as Justice’s cock ground into the cleft of his ass. He thought of Hawke’s skin flushing, beading with sweat, the sharp, bitter scent of it as he pressed his face against the skin. He imagined Hawke’s choked moan of _his_ name, not Anders’, and of breathing deep of him as he came across his warm skin.

Justice remained still, refusing to acknowledge the aching hardness between their bodies. Hawke belonged to Anders. Justice had this – darkness and denial, and the scent of Hawke’s skin.

TOUCH

Hawke’s hands moved over his body – _his._ Anders was an encouraging hum in his mind, but it was Justice that Hawke pulled down onto the bed and kissed fiercely, hands running over every inch of skin as Hawke groaned against his lips.

“Touch me,” Hawke gasped.

Justice did – he was slow, methodical. He longed to experience everything he had missed. He traced the muscles of Hawke’s calves, marvelling at the coarse hair that covered him. It was rough under his fingers, and as he reached Hawke’s thighs he couldn’t help an eager groan at the feeling of muscles tensing under his palms. He squeezed the soft flesh of Hawke’s belly, pinched and rolled his nipples until he moaned, then moved up to cup Hawke’s face and kiss him hard. Warm, pliant lips moved against his, then their tongues met, and he groaned into the wet warmth of Hawke’s mouth. He gripped Hawke’s hair, fingers toying with the silky strands, then pulled back with a rough gasp.

“Turn over,” he said, and Hawke obeyed.

His ass was taut muscle and smooth, tanned skin. Justice kneaded the firm flesh, and Hawke parted his thighs, rolling his hips against the sheets. He spread Hawke’s cheeks to expose his entrance, and circled it curiously with his thumb. Hawke’s broken whimper made his cock twitch, and he knew the answer when Hawke asked him what he wanted.

He worked oiled fingers into him, enjoying the coolness of the liquid on his skin, but gasping shakily when he slid the first digit inside. He felt smooth heat and a tight velvet grip, and Hawke loosened for him as he thrust slowly, working him open. Oil traced tickling trails over his wrist as he slid another finger into the writhing man beneath him, and his world narrowed to this - slick heat clenched around his fingers, and the play of Hawke’s muscles against his other palm as he gripped his thigh to hold him down.

“More,” Hawke moaned. “ _Harder._ ”

Justice gave him what he asked for – three fingers plunging roughly into his loosened hole, oil dripping onto the sheets as Hawke bucked against his hand. After so long in the back of Anders’ mind, sensation muffled through his thoughts, this even this was almost unbearably intense. Hawke’s ass tightened and loosened rhythmically around his fingers, the oil warmed within him, and Justice lost himself in raw sensation as he shifted his grip to Hawke’s shoulder and pounded his fingers into him with all his strength.

“I need more,” Hawke gasped. “Justice – please, I need you to _touch me._ ”

TASTE

Justice groaned, biting his lip. His teeth broke the skin and the metallic taste flooded his tongue, blood beading as he sucked at the wound. The pain grounded him – and the taste, not so different from lyrium, but without the song or bitterness. He wanted this to last.

Hawke was on his knees, his spit-slick lips around Justice’s shaft. A grip in his hair kept him where Justice wanted him, sliding back and forth steadily with saliva streaking his chin. He met Justice’s gaze, pupils wide and dark, and his groan around his length made Justice shudder and buck his hips.

There was no drawing it out from there – he was caught up in the memory of Hawke’s fierce, demanding kisses, and the way Hawke had writhed and gasped when he took his cock into his mouth. Hawke had spilled over his tongue, and the taste till hung in Justice’s mouth as he tugged Hawke’s head back and fucked roughly into his throat. He could feel Hawke’s tongue working against the base of his shaft as he drove it deep, eagerly pressed against his flesh, tasting his urgent need as he growled Hawke’s name and came, cock pulsing in warm, wet heat.

He pulled back with a snarl, watching his come trickle from between Hawke’s gently parted lips. The glowing fluid trailed over his skin, and Justice could not simply look – he needed more. Needed to _taste._

Justice dropped to straddle Hawke’s thighs with their bodies pressed close together. Hawke’s arms came up around him and he drew himself close – as close as he could get – needing to be wrapped up in this incredible mortal and never let go. He pulled Hawke’s head back and looked down at his face, mingled fluids glistening in the low light. Justice leaned in, and licked the shell of Hawke’s ear with a growl. His skin tasted of salt and warmth, and Justice trailed hungry kisses along Hawke’s jawline to his lips.

He kissed him hard, possessively, slipping his tongue between his lips to chase the taste of himself on Hawke’s tongue. Like him, it was not one thing or the other – the sharp, bitter burn of the Fade clung to it alongside the familiar salty taste. Hawke moaned against his lips and his nails dug into Justice’s back, and they moved together, skin on skin and each other’s tastes mingling in their kisses.

SOUND

Hawke’s clothes were torn, shirt in tatters and his trousers clawed loose to sag around his knees. Justice had him bent over the table, the table where he’d almost _died_ minutes earlier, blood pouring from the wound in his side as his agonized cries had clawed at Justice’s mind. The wound was gone, but the blood wasn’t, slick and hot against Justice’s palm as he gripped Hawke’s waist and pounded into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the blood – or the sounds, the shake in Hawke’s voice as his life had ebbed under Anders’ hands.

“I can’t – lose you,” Justice growled, his fingers clawing at Hawke’s hips as ragged thrusts jolted Hawke against the table. “Never. _Never._ ”

Hawke moaned, arching his back and pushing back against Justice’s thrusts. They’d rushed this – Justice had heard the sharp hiss between Hawke’s teeth as he’d – they’d – pushed in, but there had been nothing but raw eagerness in his voice as he’d begged Justice to keep going. Not to stop. _Never_ to stop.

Justice needed more – needed the reassurance of this, to know Hawke was here and _alive_ beneath him. Justice hooked his arm around Hawke’s chest and jerked him upright to bury his face against his neck, where he could feel the vibration of each sharp cry through his skin.

“Scream for me,” he snarled, fingers scrabbling under Hawke’s ruined shirt to find a nipple. “Let me hear you.”

He pinched and twisted hard, and Hawke whined and bucked against him. Justice had already come once – or Anders had, it was hard to say – and every thrust was loud, wet and obscene, sending trickles of seed down Hawke’s thighs. Justice let sparks gather under his palm, and his power snapped against Hawke’s sensitive flesh. That earned him what he needed – a rough shout as Hawke’s ass clenched and his thighs trembled.

“Yes – Anders, Justice – fuck that’s… _yes._ ” Hawke’s head fell back against Justice’s shoulder – he was arched and trembling in his arms, his cock flushed and glistening. Justice wrapped his other hand around it, stroking in time with his own deep, brutal thrusts.

He closed his eyes and let sensation surround him – the slick glide of Hawke’s ass as he plunged into him, the wetness dripping over his balls, and the comforting, solid bulk of the warrior’s body against his chest. He drowned in sound – the harsh impact of skin on skin as his hips snapped up against Hawke, the sharp, needy whine in Hawke’s throat as he trailed his thumb over the leaking head of his cock, and the shaken moan that followed when he pinched and rolled his nipple again.

“Scream,” he commanded, his voice dropping to a deep rumble against Hawke’s ear.

A rough, firm stroke of Hawke’s throbbing length, a vicious bite against his neck, and a sharp tug at his nipple – Justice dragged the sounds he wanted from Hawke’s straining throat with ease. Hawke half-screamed, half-sobbed as he peaked, shuddering in Justice’s arms. With a few deep thrusts, Justice followed, growling into the abused flesh of Hawke’s shoulder as his teeth dug in once more.

They sagged against the table together, a tangle of limbs and shredded clothing, and the only sound between them was their ragged, gasping breaths.


	4. Anders/Justice - On Your Knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ApostateRevolutionary, who put a line of dialogue in my head that I couldn't get away from :P This one's completely unedited because I've got a pounding headache, forgive any small typos, I did at least run spellcheck ;)

It took trust to understand Justice – to hear him as more than chaos in the shared space of their joined minds and feel the voice of the individual that he still was. It took trust to step into the Fade together, after so many years of near-silence between them. This, perhaps, took more trust still – coarse ropes wrapped tight around his wrists, leaving his hands trapped behind his back as Justice slid a hand into his hair and pulled him close.

“You are mine,” Justice rumbled. His voice penetrated everything in the Fade – it shook the flimsy skin of reality around them and slipped under Anders’ skin to flicker like lightning against his nerves. It left him shaking – eager and submissive as Justice yanked at his stubby ponytail and forced him to tilt his head back.

His kiss was bruising – lips and teeth as their identical mouths met in a clash of groans and growls and rough breaths. Justice allowed him no control – the connection between their minds showed him exactly what Anders wanted, what he needed, and he claimed him with every sweep of tongue and every tug of his lower lip. Anders melted against him – he could do little else. He was naked – exposed to Justice’s free hand as it trailed sparking over pale skin – he was bound, and he was held tight by the wonderful, terrifying, all-powerful being who shared his body and mind.

Justice pulled back, leaving Anders to whine in frustration, his bare cock pressed hard against Justice’s clothed thigh. Justice was a very literal being, seeing little need for symbols of the power he wielded so effortlessly, but he understood Anders’ needs. There was something deliciously intimidating about Justice like this – clothed in his black feathered coat, his brilliant blue glow flaring across his body and splintering through the fabric. Anders had little time to think about the loss of his lips or the sweet, rough friction against his aching length – Justice brought his lips to Anders’ stubbled jaw, and nipped gently at the skin.

“You will beg, tonight,” Justice growled as he traced Anders’ jawline. His fingers roamed up Anders’ chest, sending a shower of snapping, tingling sparks racing over his skin from his navel to his collarbones. Anders moaned, eyes fluttering closed as Justice’s hot breath rasped in his ear and his tongue traced the rim. “You will beg, but you will obey.”

“Yes,” Anders gasped, rutting helplessly against Justice’s thigh.

The sparks around Justice’s fingers faded, but he gave Anders no rest from the onslaught of sensation. He circled one nipple, then the other, nipping playfully at Anders’ earlobe as he squirmed and keened. Then Justice’s fingertips caught one gleaming gold nipple-ring – and held it.

“Oh, Maker."

“Say my _name,_ ” Justice snarled against his ear. He tugged sharply, and a sweet jolt of pain and pleasure blossomed in the sensitive nub. Anders cried out wordlessly, and Justice tugged again, groaning as Anders’ hips jerked desperately against him.

“Justice,” Anders moaned. “Justice – yes – _Justice._ ”

“Good,” Justice purred. He toyed gently with the ring, and the twisting of the metal in Anders’ flesh sent pulses of heat through his raw, overstimulated nerves. “Obedient mortal.”

He whimpered, and Justice tugged again – but gently, almost teasingly. He moved from one nipple to the other and back, each touch soft, painless, but desperately arousing. Anders’ nipples were achingly stiff, his skin flushed and his chest beaded with sweat. He needed more, but couldn’t bear for this to end. Justice brought two fingers to Anders’ lips and he sucked them obediently, eagerly – and as he swept his tongue over the sensitive pads he felt Justice’s pleasure and urgent need flare across their joined minds.

Justice gasped raggedly, but kept control. His grip was viciously tight in Anders’ hair, and the damp fingers that teased and tweaked his nipples were less gentle than before. The warm wetness felt so good on Anders’ stiffened peaks, but the quick twitches of the gold rings was sharply painful and left him whimpering and writhing in Justice’s grip.

“Too much?” Justice asked – he didn’t break the edge of command in his tone, not quite, but Anders felt the warm affection blossom in his mind.

“I can take it,” he gasped – and he could, he couldn’t help but struggle but he relished being at Justice’s mercy.

“Good,” Justice growled. He sucked hard at Anders’ neck – just over the pulse point, then lower, leaving a trail of damp, bruised skin. He nipped and sucked again at the abused flesh, his fingers unrelenting as they skimmed from nipple to nipple, stroking and pinching and pulling until Anders could barely stand. Maker, he could barely _think._

“On your knees, mortal,” Justice snarled. His voice was deep and reverberating, a raw sense of power that lanced through Anders’ mind as his words drove Anders to the ground at his feet.

The Fade shifted around them, never one place or another as images flowed from their minds like water. They were too focused on each other to shape this realm – Anders could think of nothing but the iron grip in his hair, the long, freckled fingers unlacing Justice’s trousers, the fierce glow of Justice’s eyes as they stared down into his.

“You are exquisite,” Justice growled. A sharp tug in Anders’ hair left his head twisted back with his neck straining. “Spread your knees, and arch your back. I wish to admire your body.”

Anders did as he was told, aching at the loss of Justice’s hand in his hair as the spirit stepped away. His coat hung open and his trousers were loosened, and he stroked his cock slowly as he looked over Anders’ form. Anders stayed still – he knew if he moved the teasing would only get worse but he was desperate. Without Justice’s thigh pressed between his, there was no source of friction against his cock. Only the empty air of the Fade, the hard ground pressed against his knees, and the bite of rope against his wrists. He needed to come – to be fucked – _anything_ if Justice would just touch him again.

He wouldn’t break, wouldn’t beg – not yet – but Justice heard the unspoken plea in his mind and a low, eager rumble built in his chest. He surged forward, sliding his hands into Anders’ hair and knocking the hair tie loose. Loose blond strands clung to Anders’ cheeks as Justice rubbed the slick head of his cock over Anders’ lips.

“Suck,” he commanded, and Anders’ moaned gratefully as he wrapped his lips around the thick shaft.

It was nothing compared to being touched himself, but through the layers of their intermingled minds he could almost feel it – he could feel Justice feeling it, and it was almost enough. Justice groaned with every swipe of his tongue and every slow, wet suck of his lips as Anders worked the head, tonguing the wet slit and letting his lips glide softly against the rigid flesh. Justice’s grip was firm in his hair but not demanding – not yet. Anders knew that would come, and he was eager for it – but for now Justice allowed him a little control, and he would not waste it. He was good at this and he knew it, combining the quick, skilled movements of his tongue with languid, wet sucks that left Justice panting.

Justice’s free hand cupped his jaw, fingers caressing his face gently even as the pressure on his scalp increased and Anders found himself being dragged a little further down Justice’s length with every stroke. There was tenderness and control, push and pull, and Anders surrendered to it and his own desire as he worked his tongue against Justice’s cock.

“Good,” Justice purred. The head of his cock hit the back of Anders’ throat – just a nudge, but he was unprepared and gagged at the intrusion. Justice pulled him back for a moment, just the tip resting against his lower lip, with strands of drool connecting it to his eager tongue. “My beautiful, good mortal.”

Anders moaned and tried to push forward, tried to take him deep again but Justice held him steady. He pushed in slowly, his throbbing length leaving a smear of salty fluid on Anders’ tongue as he worked his way back. Anders moaned again, and the vibration in his tongue made Justice gasp, and then his spit-slicked length reached Anders’ throat and he took it down to the base with a muffled whimper.

“That’s it,” Justice growled, his voice roughened by desire and Anders’ throat twitched around the thick shaft. “You take it so well.”

He began to move – slow, gentle strokes at first, pulling loose to let Anders take deep breaths before tilting his head back and claiming his mouth again. Anders’ eager moans were stifled as Justice fucked his mouth, holding him steady and helpless with his hands bound and his face upturned. His eyes fluttered shut, watering at the thick, choking pressure.

“Look at me, mortal,” Justice commanded, and Anders was helpless to resist. He let Justice’s blinding stare pin him in place, his lips stretched around his cock as Justice’s hips rolled against his drool-streaked face.

Justice’s lip curled, and Anders’ felt the warning clench of his hands in his hair and on his jaw as Justice’s hips snapped sharply. Anders’ cries were barely audible around the hard length plunging into him, wetness trickling over his neck as Justice used his mouth.

“ _Anders,_ ” Justice groaned – and _mortal_ was hot but Maker, it was good to hear his name on Justice’s lips like that. It was faintly awestruck, and Justice’s fingers shook as they tilted his jaw higher and Justice thrust once more – hard – into his mouth.

Anders felt his climax ricochet between them – his own cock responded with a rush of pleasure and urgent need, but it wasn’t enough – he needed more, needed to be touched. Justice roared as he held Anders’ face pressed tight against him and his cock pulsed and spilled down his throat, and all Anders could do was moan desperately as Justice stared down at him wide-eyed, his shaft twitching between Anders’ swollen lips.

Justice gave a shaky moan as he pulled Anders off his cock, come and saliva slipping over his slack lower lip as Justice moved behind him. Anders had been so focused on Justice’s pleasure he’d almost been able to ignore the desperate ache of his own, but as Justice pulled him back into his lap he realised even the slightest touch was leaving him panting. He needed this – needed it so much it hurt – but Justice was in no rush. He trailed soft kisses up and down Anders’ neck, purring praise and encouragement against his ear as his questing fingers found his nipples again and toyed with the rings until Anders was trembling in his arms.

“So beautiful,” Justice groaned, a lazy spark dancing down his finger to burst against Anders’ skin. “You’ve earned this, love.” His hand slid lower, gathering more sparks that stung and sang through Anders’ skin, igniting pleasure that raced through his nerves and coiled down his spine.

It wouldn’t take long – they didn’t need words to both know that, to feel the urgent flare of arousal in Anders’ mind or to hear the need in his voice as he moaned, and let his head fall back against Justice’s feathered shoulder. Justice held him close with an arm wrapped around his chest, lips warm against his ear as he wrapped his fingers around Anders’ straining cock.

He stroked him quickly, skilled fingers sweeping over the head and trailing down the underside then shifting to a firm grip to pump his fist around the flushed, glistening length. Anders moaned with every stroke, hips jerking against Justice’s fist as sparks built around his fingers and danced and hummed over his skin. He was held tight and safe in Justice’s arms, bound hands pinned between them, and it was the gentle, soothing press of lips to his sweat-damp temple that undid him. He came with a strangled cry, spilling over Justice’s fingers, breathing in his bitter, lighting-strike scent.

He remained there as the Fade began to weaken around them, sleep leaving their body and calling them back to Anders’ own world. The intimacy they had there was special – but this was where Anders felt closest to the spirit who shared his skin. Held tight and safe in Justice’s arms, happy on his knees.


	5. Anders/Hawke/Justice - Taking Turns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick, dirty and unedited - just a little warm-up to try to get me out of a slight writing slump :)

Anders lay on the bed, his flushed skin covered in a film of sweat and nothing else. He gasped face down against the pillows, his thighs giving out as Hawke pulled back, released his hip, and let him drop. He was boneless, breathless, his hair clinging damply to his cheeks and neck. Hawke ran his fingertips over Anders’ back, briefly squeezed his ass, then nudged his thighs apart to tease his loose, slick hole.

“You’re – not exhausted?” Anders panted, grinding back against Hawke’s fingertips.

“I am.” Hawke slid his middle finger in with a grunt, feeling oil and come drip warmly over his skin as the mingled fluids slid from Anders’ entrance. “That doesn’t mean I – nngh _, fuck_ – don’t want more.”

The descending trails down Anders’ legs made his cock twitch, even as it softened. He’d taken Anders twice already – hard and fast each time, ramming his cock into him as he whimpered and gasped against the pillows. Both of them were spent, but it didn’t stop him sliding a second finger into him, or Anders gripping the pillows and pushing back with a whine.

“You–“ Anders moaned sharply as Hawke’s fingers found their target. He kneaded the sensitive spot gently, rocking the tips of his fingers until Anders was almost sobbing. He was so sensitive, but still so eager. “You’ve got Justice’s attention.”

“Always a good thing to have.”

“He wants to play,” Anders laughed breathlessly. “Maker, he can’t think of anything else.”

“I wonder who he got _that_ from,” Hawke chuckled. He rocked his fingers again, and gripped Anders’ thigh firmly with the other hand. “It’s up to you, love - do you want _more,_ ” he rocked his fingers for emphasis and Anders whimpered, “or do you want to watch?”

“I can share.”

Hawke reluctantly withdrew his fingers as Anders shifted onto his side. Magic flared around his hand and he gave Hawke’s cock a slow, teasing stroke, pouring power into it as Hawke gasped and pressed his face against Anders’ neck. He wasn’t just sensitive, he was sore – and he could only imagine how Anders must feel after the pounding he’d eagerly taken. But it was worth it – _Maker,_ it was worth it. He stiffened against Anders’ palm, grunting against his warm skin as he rolled his hips. He was impatient – wanted to be inside him _now –_ but Anders was taking control. He pushed Hawke onto his back, still working his cock, and straddled him with a cocky grin.

Anders braced one hand beside Hawke’s head, their bodies chest to chest as his hair fell around his face and he moistened his lips. Hawke groaned and tried to pull him down, hands snaking around his back and digging his nails in eagerly, but Anders would not budge. He lowered himself slowly, until their lips were almost touching.

“Ready?” he asked.

“ _Yes,_ ” Hawke said desperately. “Anders – Justice – _please._ ”

“Good.”

There was a slight echo to his voice – a second presence just beneath it. It was still Anders that brought their lips together – rough and demanding, forcing Hawke’s mouth open with a growl – but Hawke could feel Justice just below the surface. His skin prickled as he sensed the power building, and when Anders groaned again there was a low, reverberating rumble beneath it. His hand twisted in Hawke’s hair, holding him tightly in place as his tongue slid over his lower lip, and the hand working his cock began to hum faintly against his skin.

Justice pressed Hawke’s cock against his entrance, grinding against the tip as he kissed him fiercely. Hawke groaned against his lips and bucked his hips, and Justice didn’t tease – not this time. He sank down onto him with a snarl, his nails biting into Hawke’s scalp as he began to rock his hips.

Justice pulled back – eyes blazing, skin alight with blazing blue cracks. He was magnificent – raw power barely contained by the mortal body he shone through. The slick heat of him on Hawke’s aching length felt incredible, and he rode him hard, slamming his ass down with ragged groans as he stared down into Hawke’s face.

Hawke gripped Justice’s thighs, pulling him down with every descent of his hips and thrusting up with low groans. His body ached and his thighs shook – he’d worn himself out on Anders and now all he could do was lie back and let Justice rise and fall on his cock. He traced the outlines of his hips with his thumb, grunting sharply as Justice’s ass clenched around him.

“Missed you,” Justice panted. His hand drifted from Hawke’s hair down his chest, leaving burning cold layers of frost following the trails of his fingers. Hawke whimpered as the snapping chill hit his nipples, leaving them achingly hard and coated in a thin film of ice. “Love you.”

“Love – you too,” Hawke groaned.

He slid his hands up Justice’s narrow waist, up and around his back trying to draw him closer. He wanted to lick the glowing Fade-cracks that raced over his skin, to taste the raw, bitter hum of unrestrained power in his flesh, to nip and suck at his neck and shoulders until he moaned. Justice had other ideas – he gripped Hawke’s wrists and pinned them above his head, shifting to a one-handed grip that still left him helpless beneath Justice’s strength.

“Yes,” Hawke gasped, his eyes falling closed as a spike of arousal arced through him. This was what he wanted – Justice had him at his mercy and he loved it, his shaft gripped by his hot, tight entrance, warm sticky trails of come sliding over his balls and smearing against his thighs as Justice rode him. The spirit was unravelling fast, low growls pitching higher, becoming more urgent as he moaned and arched, writhing on Hawke’s thick length.

Justice’s second hand skimmed over his body again, toying with his lips, cupping his jaw, before sending trails of sparks and the sharp sting of ice over his straining throat. Hawke cried out sharply, a hot pulse of need shooting through his cock, but Justice wasn’t done with him yet. He pinched and rolled his nipples, rocking forward to force Hawke’s hands down harder against the pillows, their faces inches apart as he snarled and panted and _moaned._

“Come for me, mortal,” he said. Electricity danced over Hawke’s chest, leaving him trembling, and then Justice’s fingers closed tightly around his throat. “ _Come._ ”

Justice squeezed, and Hawke’s body obeyed – he was helpless, desperate, and he gave a ragged, choked cry as his hips jerked up into the glowing body above him. He could feel the sudden slickness of his come smeared over his cock as Justice continued to rise and fall on his length. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, he took Hawke’s shaft eagerly, grinding against it with every sharp descent of his hips.

He was getting close – Hawke could see it in his eyes, the shake in his shoulders, and Hawke knew his own shaky, wanton moans were helping. Justice loved the sounds he made, especially like this – he’d come until he couldn’t come anymore, and his seed was slick around his shaft – Hawke was broken and whimpering beneath Justice, overwhelmed in sensation.

“Beautiful,” Justice gasped. He bit his lip, stifling a rough grunt as his hips jerked. He opened his mouth to speak again, lips parted loosely as his breath came raggedly – he was speechless. He moaned shakily, almost a whimper as he sucked and nipped at his own lip, arms trembling even as he tightened his grip on Hawke’s bruised neck. With another uneven buck of his hips, Justice roared through his release, spilling the thick spurts of his glowing come over Hawke’s chest.

They lay together in comfortable exhaustion, breathing heavily as their limbs tangled together. Justice’s kisses were gentle now, purring softly as their lips moved together, and their hands trailed over sweat-dampened skin, unhurried and intimate.


	6. Anders/Hawke - Quick Blowjob

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a post showing my writing process on Tumblr - the full thing with the notes included is here: http://felixbug.tumblr.com/post/122757283289/something-a-bit-different-today-i-was-chatting. 
> 
> Warning for mildly tipsy (but established consensual) sex.

Hawke's hand was warm in his - firm callouses pressed against Anders' palm as he dragged him into the alley, ignoring Isabela's cackle of laughter behind them. He didn't care who saw them, didn't care what anyone thought. He pulled Hawke's body close to him, smelling ale on his breath and the familiar scent of sweat and mabari that clung to Hawke's clothes. He was warm, safe, and _big_ , pressing Anders up against the wall with a grunt as their lips met. It was clumsy, hurried  - Anders was hungry for Hawke's touch and it was obvious in every suck and nip at Hawke's lips, and the eager swipe of tongue as he forced Hawke's mouth open and kissed him hard. They'd been drinking - not a lot, not enough that Anders didn't know  _exactly_  what he was doing as he bucked his hips and felt Hawke's hardness against his own, and Hawke certainly seemed clear-headed as he gripped a handful of Anders' ass and brought his lips to his ear. 

"We doing this here, love?" he groaned. 

Anders dropped to his knees in response, loving the way Hawke groaned as quick, clever fingers unlaced his trousers and freed his cock. Anders didn't tease - it was only a matter of time before some drunk would stumble into the alley, they needed this to be fast. Anders smirked up at Hawke - a challenge, then. He wet his lips and wrapped them around Hawke's stiff length with a low moan. Hawke's fingers slid into his hair, rough against the silky strands, tugging at Anders' scalp as he began to suck. Hawke's shirt-sleeve was rolled up to the elbow, exposing a tanned forearm covered in coarse, dark hair, and Anders could see the tremor in the muscle as he looked up at Hawke's flushed face and parted lips. He grunted with every swipe of Anders' tongue, every stifled moan against his length. His thickness stretched Anders' lips, forcing his mouth open wide as his cock smeared pre-come over Anders' eager tongue. Anders lapped at it eagerly, tasting salt and bitterness and  _Hawke_ , and whining desperately as Hawke dragged him forward and the slick, leaking head nudged the back of his throat. 

"Fuck that's -  _Maker_ , Anders you're..." Hawke bit his lip with a groan, tilting his head back as his hips rolled and his cock slowly eased into Anders' throat.   
Anders could feel the grimy Lowtown cobbles under his knees, the sharp tug of Hawke's fingers in his hair, and hear the voices of drunks spilling out of the Hanged Man's doors into the street behind him. No one noticed the two men in the shadows, Hawke's body hunched forward as he thrust into Anders' throat with a growl, and Anders' hands slid up to grip his trembling thighs. 

Anders looked up through his lashes to meet Hawke's gaze as Hawke jerked back with a rough gasp, his cock slipping spit-slick from between Anders' lips, spilling drool over his chin. It twitched in front of him, glistening and flushed, and Hawke wrapped his free hand around his length with a groan. He pumped his fist around it - once, twice, and came with a grunt of Anders' name as thick spurts of come splashed over his upturned face. Anders closed his eyes and let his tongue run over his softly parted lips, Hawke's seed sticky on his cheeks and trickling down from his stubbled jaw over his neck. Hawke was panting raggedly above him, and his touch turned gentle as he stroked Anders' hair, and ran his thumb almost reverently over his lower lip.

"Take me home," Anders gasped. "I want more."


	7. Anders/Hawke - Cuddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing (bits of) the 30 Day OTP NSFW challenge - gonna skip anything I'm not into and I'm not doing it all with one pairing, it'll be all over the place :P Today's is cuddles (naked), and is barely NSFW at all!

Hawke could barely keep his eyes open. There wasn’t – he supposed – much point in trying. The fire had almost died, and the glowing embers barely lit the bedroom. A shaft of moonlight lay across the bed – just enough to make Anders’ hair seem to glow – but their bodies were in deep shadow. Hawke pulled Anders closer against him with a low, pleased hum, and burrowed his face against the side of his neck.

“Still awake?” he whispered.

“Mm?” Anders shifted slightly, one lean leg moving back to tangle between Hawke’s. “A bit.”

“Me too,” Hawke said. He kissed his way up Anders’ neck, chuckling against his skin in the way he _knew_ would make the mage squirm. It worked, and he felt his back arch and ass press against him. He could work with that.

His arms were wrapped around Anders’ chest, and he kept one in place with his hand splayed out, fingertips gently kneading the skin. The other, he let wander – moving his hand over Anders’ side and onto his hip. Hawke squeezed gently, rolling his own hips once with a low growl against his ear.

“Y’awake enough?” Anders mumbled.

“Not really.” Hawke slid his hand down to grip Anders’ thigh, and thrust lazily against him again. He was only half hard – but Maker, it was tempting. “Jus’ playing.”

“Teasing,” Anders corrected.

He twisted his head to look over his shoulder, and Hawke shifted to meet his lips in a slow, lazy kiss. Anders moaned faintly as Hawke sucked on his lower lip, and Hawke scuffed his nails up his inner thigh in response. He held Anders firmly against his body, breathing in the warm scent of his skin and the hint of elfroot that always clung to him. The slow, sweet kisses drifted into languid sweeps of tongue and muffled groans, and Hawke rolled a nipple between his fingers as he tightened his grip on Anders’ thigh. Anders’ whimpering pant against his lips left him aching for more – reminding him of their first kiss in the clinic. Of Anders’ hands gripping his face, and of the hot, wet sounds of his lips and the insistent press of tongue.

“Tha’s nice,” Anders mumbled as Hawke pulled away for air. His head fell back against the pillow, leaving Hawke with a face full of strawberry blond hair.

“Y’know what’d be nicer?” Hawke pressed a trail of open-mouthed kisses along Anders’ shoulder.

“Sleep?”

Hawke laughed, and wriggled impossibly closer to Anders, a tangle of limbs as he engulfed him in a tight hug and tucked his chin onto his shoulder. He kissed his temple, his cheekbone, his jawline, and then relaxed against him with a sigh.

“Sleep – sounds good,” he admitted.


	8. Anders/Hawke/Justice - Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These will get back to being properly smutty soon ;) Just working on expanding my range a little. Based on a prompt for kisses (naked) from the NSFW OTP 30 Day Challenge, around the theme of _heat_ because there's a heatwave here and I'm melting :P  
>  30mins timed writing, idk how this ended up over 1000 words.

The sweat-soaked sheet was tangled somewhere at the foot of the bed, and the window was thrown open, allowing what little breeze there was to skim across Anders’ glistening skin. Hawke was propped up on one elbow beside him, running his fingers through damp hair. It was a hot summer night – the hottest either of them could remember in their time in Kirkwall – and although there was a certain spark of lazy desire between them, neither could quite bring themselves to touch.

Things with Justice, however, were easier. One of Anders’ arms was glowing softly as he caught his breath, blue light streaming from beneath his nails, splintering through freckled skin as the hand wandered up his bare chest. Gentle touches smeared beaded sweat, smoothed nails rasped across his collarbone, and then wandered onto his throat.

“What’s he thinking?” Hawke asked, shifting a little closer.

“He wants me,” Anders said, groaning softly as the fingers stroked, kneaded, and gently pinched at the column of his throat. “He loves me – loves us – there’s a warmth…”

“Think we’ve got enough of that tonight.”

“Not like that.” Anders laughed, and squirmed as Justice’s fingers circled his pulse-point, the pads barely touching the skin. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Well I don’t know about _warmth,_ ” Hawke murmured. “But this is certainly hot.”

“Maker, love.”

He felt Justice ease a little closer to the surface, a faint pulse of blue shone through his veins for a moment, and what followed could only be described as an echo. It rippled out from where Justice had slid through his skin, otherworldly power wrapping tendrils around his nerves and toying with his thoughts. He felt the flicker of half-forgotten memories even as Justice’s control over sensation intensified. Pulses of sweet, agonizing pleasure rolled through him in waves, leaving his back arched and his cock stiffening as the sensation swirled, danced, and began to narrow. He could feel it as hands on his flesh – the ghosts of lovers he barely remembered that gripped his hips, stroked his nipples, and raked wicked nails up his inner thighs.

Justice brought his fingers to his face, tracing the outline of his cheekbone, trailing a fingertip down the length of his nose, and pressing two fingers to the corner of his mouth. Anders gasped and tried to capture them, but Justice felt his intent and dodged with a soft mental hum of amusement.

“Tease,” Anders gasped, and the incorporeal touches intensified for a moment – the call of memory and imagination so strong he could almost feel skin on skin, strong thighs nudging his apart, and a pair of lips skimming over his jaw.

It was like static – like the energy at the edge of the Fade – it was like every kind of power and none of them, and beneath it all it was desperately, beautifully human. Justice was not quite imitation, not quite alien – he was something that defied description. His hand cupped Anders’ jaw, and the pad of his thumb traced over his lower lip.

“Kiss me,” Anders whispered, his voice low and rough as his nerves sang and his skin flushed. He licked his lips, the tip of his wet tongue swiping over Justice’s thumb, and he felt the growl of rough need thrum through their joined minds. Justice’s grip on his jaw tightened, and his thumb toyed with Anders’ lower lip – but still he held back.

Anders met Hawke’s gaze – dark eyes seeming darker in the low light, chest hair dampened with sweat, and one hand balled in the sheets as the other slowly trailed over his chest. His cock was hard – flushed and beaded with precome as his hand descended towards it – but he would wait. He would watch.

“Please,” Anders gasped – and Justice’s essence fluttered eagerly around his mind as the ghost-kiss slid from his jaw to his lips, and Justice slid two fingers slowly into his mouth.

It was easy to get lost in the kiss – faintly humming fingers that teased his lips and met his tongue as he lapped eagerly at the pads, accompanied by the tingling, flickering pressure of lips against his. It was so real as he closed his eyes – the phantom Justice had created became flesh, the taste of salt and elfroot and the Fade was no longer his own hand, but the flicking, teasing tongue of his immortal lover. In the darkness behind his eyelids, Anders could feel hands skimming over his body – impossible hands, everywhere at once, pinching and stroking and flickering with power as his legs were parted and a rush of pure pleasure jolted through his cock. He whined faintly, and groaned as Justice deepened the kiss. More sensation, faster strokes of his fingers between spit-slick lips – and _more._ Images bloomed within Anders’ mind, and he and Justice were face to face.

Justice kissed him hard – it was imagination, manipulation of mortal flesh and twisted memory, but it was _everything._ He surrendered to the wet heat of his mouth, the soft crush of lips against his, and the slow slide of fingers into his hair. Justice cupped his scalp and pulled him closer, groaning into his open mouth and their heated, gasping breaths mingling as he held him tight.

Anders opened his eyes with a shuddering moan. His own hand – Justice’s hand – was threaded through his sweat-damp hair, and the other was still brushing softly at his lips. He only had a moment to catch his breath – the ghostly touches still brushing over his body, sending tingles up his spine – and then Hawke was on him. Real, solid, almost unbearably hot. He settled between Anders’ thighs and kissed him hard, growling against his lips as he dropped one hand to wrap around their stiff lengths.

“Thought you were – too hot,” Anders gasped breathlessly as he pulled back.

“I was,” Hawke groaned, and Anders felt Justice rise up within his skin so they could both thrust against his shaft. “But you two are hotter.”

Anders’ snort of laughter was muffled by a rough, eager kiss – teeth that nipped at his lip, sucks and nibbles and panting moans as the three of them writhed and thrust together. The fingers working his cock were good – the pressure of Hawke’s own hardness grinding down against him even better – but what dragged Anders to his peak and left him whimpering as he spilled over Hawke’s fingers was the kiss. Bruising, sweet and passionate – mortal lips against his skin while Justice curled even closer, kisses soft as feathers against his nerves, and white-hot touches that burned on his lips and smouldered in his heart.


	9. Various Pairings - Make Me Blush Inbox Ficlets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These started as my responses to the "make me blush" meme on Tumblr - tiny ficlets I could fit within the 500 character limit on Tumblr asks. Then I asked people to like a post if they wanted one aaaaand... there's going to be another compilation of these soon because everyone wants one :P The first two were written a month or so ago last time the meme was going around, the rest are from tonight. Some blood and implied background violence, the rest are just the usual mildly kinky smut :)

Anders straddles your hips with a wicked grin, leans close & trails his fingers up your neck. His hand brushes your jaw & his lips are close to yours –breath against your skin, gold flecks in his eyes. He sits up, shaking red-gold hair loose & trailing his hands up his thighs. All you can do is watch -he slides them over his hips & tugs off his shirt, revealing a slim body & glinting gold rings in his nipples. “So.” He toys with one ring & groans softly. “You have me all to yourself. What now?”

***

Hawke is panting by the time the door slams behind them, his grip on Anders’ ass bruising tight as he grinds against him with a growl. A firm shove and he’s pinned to the door, Hawke’s thigh between his legs & Maker, he’s shameless, grinding against it & moaning urgently as Hawke grips his hair & pulls. Pain, pleasure, Hawke’s lips hot on his skin –Anders’ cock aches for touch & Hawke’s teeth graze his neck, making him moan. “That’s good,” Hawke growls against his ear. “But I want you to beg.”

***

The Fade allows for pleasures Anders has never imagined. He whines as Justice’s strong, glowing hands tug his thighs back, held tight against the spirit’s chest as he’s spread under Hawke’s eager gaze. One finger, then two – and by the time Hawke adds a third he’s begging, chest heaving as Justice nips his throat. Hawke thrusts into him with a ragged cry, and Maker, he’s thick – Anders is stretched around him, hole slick and clenching as Hawke grips his thighs and pounds into him, snarling.

***

Thick, white trails descend from Hawke’s lips & his beard is dripping – he’s flushed, dazed, beautiful. Anders pushes him over the edge of the bed, one hand clenched in dark hair, the other stretching his slick, stretched hole. Hawke whimpers, on the verge of begging as Anders presses the blunt head of his cock to his entrance – and pushes in slowly, watching as he disappears inch by inch. Oil seeps around his length as Anders hunches over Hawke, snarls against his ear, and begins to thrust.

***

Anders is sprawled on your bed when you arrive – elegant fingers trailing down his chest, stopping just short of – Maker, that looks good. His cock is thick, already half hard, & as you bite your lip he begins to stroke slowly. He flushes, quick dart of tongue moistening his lips, & strokes himself to full firmness. His thumb swipes over the head, smearing beaded fluid as he bucks into his fist with a shaky cry. “C’mon love,” he gasps, honey-gold eyes meeting yours. “I can’t wait much longer.”

***

It’s slow, almost lazy but not quite – they’re too eager for that. They’re sprawled together in the sun, Hawke’s fingers slowly working him open as Anders buries his face in his neck & pants brokenly. His cock aches between their bodies, he grinds helplessly on Hawke’s thigh as fingers crook, stroke & thrust – oh Maker, that’s good – but he needs more. Hawke rolls him onto his back as his shoulders tense, his hips jerk, & he slides into him with a low moan of his name.

***

Hawke hadn’t known it could be like this. Anders’ breath is hot on his neck, & sparks dance from his lips as he whimpers. His slick heat around Hawke’s cock would be enough, but Anders doesn’t just give enough – he gives his all. Ice swirls at wicked fingertips, the Fade is bitter on his skin, & when their lips meet, magic blooms & they both burn. The kiss smoulders, raw power arcing through Hawke’s flesh, & Anders trembles, slumps against his chest, & spills with a shaky cry over Hawke’s belly. 

***

Stacks of manifestos flutter to the ground, followed by a crash as the inkwell topples & shatters. Neither of them care as Justice bends Hawke over the desk. Clothes are torn, tugged loose, fingers slicked and thrust into tight heat, & Hawke is begging for it by the time Justice sinks in with a growl. His thrusts slam the desk against the wall, wood creaking & dust trailing from the joints as Hawke takes it hard, moaning Justice’s name raggedly as he comes in spurts across the ink-stained desk. 

***

Anders’ breath is hot, gasping, & Hawke’s fingers tease his lips. He strokes his cock faster, eyes on Anders rapt expression. He’s already fucked that perfect mouth & come over that skilled tongue, but he needs more. One last stroke, a flick of tongue at his fingers & he’s undone. Coiled heat snaps, Hawke gasps, groans Anders’ name, & spills over his upturned face. Anders’ lips are parted, drips hitting his eager tongue, & with a moan, he draws Hawke’s fingers into his mouth & sucks them clean.

***

A blue flash – Hawke knows he’s being watched, knows the power behind the hand in his hair, pushing him to his knees. He takes what Anders gives, what Justice demands, lips stretched around their shaft as he tastes the Fade & recognises the rumble in Anders’ groan. The alcove barely hides them from Chantry sisters who kneel to a different god, but Hawke didn’t come here for the Maker – but for Justice, for Anders, & for the warmth in his throat as his lovers moan his name & come over his tongue.

***

“They attacked,” Justice snarls, pushing Hawke against the wall. He’s gore-streaked but Hawke can’t care as Justice claims his lips. The kiss is vicious as battle, clashes of teeth & rough growls leaving him weak at the knees. Justice’s hand is in his armour & wraps around his throbbing length. “They regretted it,” Justice pants, & Hawke thrusts against his blood-slick palm. He clings to Justice’s unyielding body, gasps his name, & the tension peaks, shatters, & he spills over Justice’s hand. 

***

Anders loosens his robe, & the neckline parts. It shows pale skin, a scatter of freckles, & as it slips you see the light gleam off one golden nipple ring. You’re speechless, wetting your lips as he prowls forward with a teasing smirk. He unties his belt & the robe falls – he’s all you imagined, that you wanted – smooth planes of muscle, elegance in each twist of his hips & confident step. He cups your jaw, & you can feel the snap & hum of magic in his fingers. “Kiss me,” he whispers – & you do. 

***

Just a look – & it broke him. Hawke feels the weight of it– honey eyes lingering on his lips, the flush in Anders’ face as he turned away. It’s been hours & now, pushing back onto fingers buried in his ass, groaning Anders’ name into the pillow as he strokes himself, Hawke is ready to beg the Maker for relief. He comes again & it almost hurts, his cock pulses & he stains the sheets, whimpering, twitching, slick hole clenched around his fingers. It’s not enough. Maker help him, it’s not enough. 

***

Justice explores him in the Fade – lips, tongue & rasps of teeth at stiff nipples, harsh bites & sucks at freckled shoulders as his length plunges into Anders’ slick hole. He can’t get enough, kneading muscle, cupping a stubbled jaw, fingers between slack, kiss-swollen lips. He plays Anders like an instrument – making him whimper, beg & finally scream. Anders comes apart so beautifully, his seed heat and salt over Justice’s lips, & his cry as Justice swirls his tongue is everything he’s craved. 


	10. Various Pairings - Make Me Blush Inbox Ficlets 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another batch of inbox ficlets!

Hawke crooks his fingers, Anders whimpers – oil spills slick over his balls as he grinds against Hawke’s hand. He’s more than ready, but teasing feels so good – toying with his loosened entrance til Hawke can’t wait any more. He slides in slowly, Anders’ hole so tight, so fucking hot around his glistening shaft. He comes wailing Hawke’s name into the pillow, clenching, whimpering – & it’s enough. Hawke leaves streaks splashed across his ass & back, grunting as he spills onto pale, freckled skin. 

***

Anders is where you left him, a strip of soft fabric binding his hands to the headboard. He could get loose if he wanted to – it takes more to bind a mage – but this is the kind of game he likes best. He’s hard – cock rigid, flushed & throbbing, fluid beaded at the tip, & his toes are scrunched in the sheets as he bites his lower lip & whines helplessly. “You kept me waiting so long,” he moans. “Please, love – I need…” You know what he needs. The only question is, how much longer will you tease? 

***

Lyrium spills between Justice’s fingers – snaps of cold against his flesh, the crystalline song taut around his mind. He trails his fingers over his bare chest, humming trails in their wake. The sweet, chilling note whispers through his nerves, down to the aching heat low in his body, down to where Hawke sucks & licks & groans around his shaft. He cups Hawke’s cheek, lyrium blue against tanned skin, & thrusts up raggedly between hot, spit-slick lips, chased to his peak by Hawke’s wicked tongue. 

***

Justice braces his hand on the wall beside your head, a rumble rising in his chest as his gaze slides to your lips, lingers for a moment, & drifts down your body & up again. “You are exquisite,” he purrs, cupping your jaw lightly – a hint of control, but a question beneath it. He will do nothing you do not ask for – in fact, he may make you beg. His lips meet yours – surprisingly soft, unbearably hot – you melt against him, & his thigh slips between your legs as he moans into your open mouth. 

***

Anders breathes, Justice breathes with him, & the hand around their cock isn’t quite his or Justice’s – it’s theirs. But it’s Justice who pins his hand above his head, Justice who sends a ripple of static over flushed skin – unquestionably in control. They thumb the glistening tip, smear pre-come down their shaft, & Anders whimpers Justice’s name as they thrust into their fist, straining, sweat-slick body alight in blue as they come with a roar, a moan, minds tangled, panting harshly as one. 

***

His hand’s in your hair, tight grip of elegant fingers as he doesn’t quite drag, but encourages, with his hand & with his voice. He’s loud – Maker, the sounds you wring from him – shaky groans as his shaft throbs between your lips. You flick your tongue over the leaking head, and it’s divine – you never want to stop – but he’s close, whimpering as he bites his hand & bucks against your lips. You take him deeper, moan around him, & he gasps your name as he comes, trembling under your touch. 

***

Anders’ body arches as Hawke pounds into him, fist tight in tousled blond hair. He watches Anders’ body move, the bounce of his ass as Hawke’s hips snap, the tension in the wiry muscles of his shoulders, the delicate flush across his cheeks when Hawke yanks on his hair. “Take it,” he grunts, watching his rigid length plunge into Anders’ slick hole. “Fuck – Maker, come for me.” Anders clenches around him, eyelids fluttering, lips parted, & he whimpers as Hawke fucks him through the aftershocks. 

***

Anders’ hand encloses Hawke’s length, sparks dancing at fingertips. “Let me,” a gasp against Hawke’s ear, hard himself against Hawke’s thigh. Nimble fingers sweep over the leaking head, trail damp over aching flesh, & Hawke bucks against his hand. The pull of the Fade hums in the air & Anders’ palm is impossibly hot as delicious tension builds & throbs. Hawke pulls him in for a kiss – teeth against lips, hot breath mingling, eager groans as Hawke pants, arches & spills messily over Anders’ hand. 


	11. Anders/Hawke/Justice - Audience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Justice put on a show for chained and gagged Hawke. BDSM & 69 in this one! A little long to count as a ficlet but I'm throwing it in here for my patient subscribers, haven't done anything for the sin pit in a while!

Hawke doubted the Fade would ever feel comfortable, exactly – but comfortable wasn’t the aim tonight. The chains that held him bit and chafed – heavy manacles on his wrists above his head and tugging his ankles apart. The chilly air of the Fade nipped at his bare skin, whispering against him like a ghost’s breath despite the lack of wind. He shuddered, and his groan was muffled by the thick weight of fabric in his mouth – bound and gagged, Hawke was helpless against Justice’s teasing.

“I will feel it, if you object,” Justice growled against his ear. The raw power of him was terrifying and beautiful here – unfettered by mortal flesh, he sparked where his skin brushed Hawke’s, and the fabric of the Fade rippled around him. “You are bound only as long as you wish it. The Fade obeys my commands and I – am helpless against yours.”

Hawke knew it was the truth – even if Justice could lie, even if Hawke didn’t trust him without room for doubt – this was a game they played often and played well. But that _voice,_ the weight of chains, and the way his thighs shook as Justice’s fingertips skimmed over his chest and carded through the coarse hair they found – he didn’t feel in command. He belonged to Justice, and would have it no other way.

A muffled whimper from between his thighs drew Hawke’s eyes down – against orders, and he knew it, but he was only human – only _mortal_ – and there was only so much he could take. He caught a glimpse of strawberry blond hair, reddened lips stretched obscenely wide around a thick, glowing length – then an iron grip in his hair twisted his head back and Justice was snarling against his throat.

“Listen.” His voice was gravel and lyrium, rough and biting, smooth and toxic, it coiled around Hawke’s heart and bound him tighter than any chains. “If you cannot obey, your eyes will be covered.”

Hawke groaned faintly, and nodded. He could follow the rules.

“Anders obeys,” Justice purred. His teeth caught Hawke’s earlobe and tugged – gently at first, then harder, until he squirmed and struggled in his chains. “He does not rush, although his body aches for it – for an end to this. For his own climax to leave him shaking as I flood his tongue.”

Hawke bit his lip, and Justice sucked firmly at the sensitive flesh just below his jaw. One faintly humming hand sought out a nipple, and Hawke keened as Justice’s fingers circled and pinched the stiffened peak. Justice’s breath was hot on his neck – but it was his authority, his intensity, that bent the air and left Hawke’s skin prickling, hot and tight and shivering.

“He sucks as I direct,” Justice said. He bit down on Hawke’s shoulder – briefly, but agonizingly hard, and Hawke’s knees buckled but the chains held him upright. “I desire, I imagine – and he submits to my will. Every suck, every lick – the tight grip of his lips, the ache in his jaw that I feel, that I feel him wanting – all are at my command.”

“ _Mmph_ …” Hawke had almost forgotten he couldn’t speak – he wanted to beg, to scream, to fall to his knees and take Anders’ place, or just to watch.

“The heat of his mouth – the quickness of his tongue…” Justice groaned, and his fingertips dropped to Hawke’s hip and dug in sharply. The movement pulled Hawke forward, and his aching length twitched as he felt the faint brush of Anders’ hair. He whined pitifully, tugging at the chains as he arched and strained – and was forced back by Justice’s firm hand.

“Should I claim more?” Justice growled. He pinched Hawke’s nipple hard. “Use this eager mortal – let him serve as he wishes, choking as he swallows everything I give?”

“Nngh – mm…” Hawke shuddered, crying out through the crumpled, wet gag as Justice let a burst of sparks flood across his skin. It hurt – Maker help him, he hadn’t known anything could burn like that – but he didn’t know if he was mentally begging for more or for less. Desire and intent seeped from his mind into the Fade around them, tinting the air with colours he couldn’t name and humming between him and Justice with a song he couldn’t so much hear, as _know._

Justice’s hand slipped from his hip, and for a desperate, exquisitely painful moment Hawke believed he might touch him – that those long, familiar and yet so utterly alien fingers might wrap around his throbbing length – and then he heard Anders’ stifled cry. A quick glance down confirmed it – Justice’s hand was tangled in a ball of Anders’ hair, gripping tightly as his rigid shaft plunged into his eager mouth. His hips jerked and Anders gagged, shoulders shaking as drool coated Justice’s thick cock.

“Mortal.”

Hawke flinched – arousal and fear coiling tight in his gut as Justice’s hand snatched his jaw. He tugged Hawke’s jaw up sharply, bringing them eye to eye. Justice was scalding, blinding – the light in his eyes was all-consuming, penetrating and burning as he stared down at Hawke, unblinking. He stepped in closer, and Hawke’s cock pulsed at the needy, choked-off moan from between his legs. Justice snarled with every roll of his hips, and Hawke could see the movement only in the rhythmic tensing of his shoulder and the twitch of his jaw.

“You will look at me,” Justice snarled. “And at no other. You are _mine._ Listen. Hear him.”

Hawke’s moan was stifled by the gag, and Justice’s touch turned gentle as he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to the saliva-soaked cloth. Hawke didn’t dare close his eyes – wasn’t sure he’d have been able to bear it, in truth. Justice was beautiful in Hawke’s world, but in his own realm, he was everything. In the absence of sun or moon and stars, Justice was light and life and air, he burned out everything else, and Hawke was willingly consumed.

He obeyed – he listened. Anders’ voice was stifled by the thickness of Justice’s girth, but Maker, the sounds that escaped were _filthy._ Low, needy groans pitched higher into breathless whimpers, and every roll of Justice’s hips dragged soft, wet sounds from his slick, stretched lips. Hawke could hear the wet slap of Justice’s balls against the mage’s chin, the way Anders gagged, then moaned, then took it deeper and harder. Hawke had felt the sweet, skilled work of Anders’ mouth enough to almost feel it – every sound awakening memories that bled from him into the Fade, caressing his skin and whispering in his ear as Justice groaned and gasped and _thrust._

“Nngh…” Anders’ needy cry became a thick, wet gagging sound, and Justice snarled in response.

“You wish to see him?” Hawke’s frantic moan did nothing to loosen Justice’s grip on his jaw. “He is beautiful on his knees. He’s flushed and panting – when he can breathe, which is…” Justice’s voice faltered and he groaned, lips parting as the tendons in his neck stood out sharply and his shoulders shuddered. “Becoming difficult – as I thrust into his – into his tight, hot throat.”

Hawke grunted and tried to pull free of Justice’s hand, and was locked in place with a sudden press of sharp nails, denting his skin. He groaned helplessly, his cock hard and heavy where it jutted between his legs, his knees shaking as heat raced and tingled down his spine and fire filled his veins.

“His lips are swollen – wet and stretched so wide, and he – he looks up at me. Every time I sink into him, every time he chokes, as his tongue curls and flickers over my flesh – his eyes are on me. He does not look away – he worships.”

Justice’s lips met Hawke’s skin again – hot and eager, sucking, nipping, sweeping with tongue as they worked from his shoulder up his neck. Hawke shuddered and groaned as the brushed over his jaw, and Justice’s hand slid into his hair to hold him still as he kissed him through the gag again. This time, there was nothing chaste about it – damp fabric separated their lips, but the firm, insistent press made it through and left Hawke panting. Justice’s teeth grazed his bottom lip, and he tugged at the taut fabric with a low growl as Hawke struggled to free himself – to kiss back. Then Justice pulled away – his body was gone from Hawke’s, leaving him bound and panting and bereft of his touch.

But Maker, it was worth it.

He could see – panting raggedly as he watched Justice drag Anders forward on his knees. He kept his hands obediently behind his back, and his stubbled chin was streaked with drool. The tattered remains of his clothes still hung from his slender body – a shirt clawed to shreds sliding off his bared shoulders, trousers tangled around his ankles. He caught Hawke’s eye and smirked, running his tongue over his slick, swollen lips.

“You holding up all right?” he laughed.

Justice snarled, twisting his hair until Anders’ face contorted in pain and he whimpered. His shoulders thrashed as he tried to pull free, and Hawke’s cock ached watching him struggle and twist in Justice’s grip. Justice threw him down with ease – Justice was always strong, but in this realm he was practically a god, and Anders fell onto his back with a silent cry, the breath driven from his lungs.

“Watch, mortal,” Justice growled, locking eyes with Hawke. “See what you are denied.”

His hand sparked as he slid it into Anders’ hair, kneeling above his head and staring up at Hawke across the squirming length of Anders’ body. Hawke saw the way Anders’ cock throbbed and twitched between his thighs, the way his toes curled as he scrabbled against the shifting ground beneath him, and the tight clench of his abs as Justice pressed the glistening tip of his cock to the mage’s gently parted lips. Justice gripped the thick base of his shaft, not looking away from Hawke even for a moment as he smeared drool and pre-come across Anders’ lips. Hawke stifled a cry, teeth grinding against the gag, and Justice lowered himself and thrust into Anders’ mouth.

Anders gagged harshly – then again, the broken sound cut with a muffled whimper as Justice snarled and thrust deeper. Anders choked – moaned, whined, choked again – and his body thrashed even as he pushed up hungrily against the thick press of Justice’s cock. Hawke couldn’t feel Anders’ needs as Justice did, but every inch of the mage’s arching, straining body screamed desire, and the Fade was heavy with it. Justice began to roll his hips – slowly, but firmly – and thick trails of drool spilled from Anders’ lips.

“I feel his submission,” Justice said, his voice ragged around the edges, tinged with urgency. “As he chokes – as he struggles – he panics and still begs for more. I do not understand – but I – I _give._ ” He groaned, eyes half-closed, flaring blue between his lashes as he pitched forward and braced his free hand on Anders’ sweat-streaked chest. “His mind howls for more – for my touch, for pain, to be used and broken beneath me. I can feel it with him – and he can feel _this._ ”

Justice pumped his hips rapidly, forcing shaky groans from Anders as his hips jerked wildly, chasing friction that did not – could not – exist. Hawke whined, gnawing at the crumpled fabric between his teeth as he twisted in his chains. Anders’ parted thighs and bucking hips revealed the slight curve of his ass, and as his hips twisted Hawke caught a glimpse of his tight entrance. The thought of thrusting into him hard as Justice claimed his mouth sent a flood of heat to pool low in his gut, his cock aching as he grunted against the gag.

Justice’s icy composure was unravelling fast – his gaze was as intense as ever, drifting up and down Hawke’s straining body as his hand wandered over Anders’ heaving chest. But his voice shattered, each groan more needy, more desperate than the last. He growled and panted, his upper lip twitching into a snarl and his brow furrowed as he thrust between Anders’ lips. The steady spill of saliva over Anders’ twitching jaw made Hawke moan, and Justice moaned with him, eyes finally fluttering closed as he threw back his head and his nails bit into Anders’ side.

“He begs,” he groaned. His hand drifted to Anders’ nipple, and he pinched hard, crying out along with Anders as both of their bodies twitched with shared pleasure and pain. “He aches, he burns, he – he _needs._ I can deny him – myself – no longer.”

Hawke’s encouraging moan was drowned out by Anders’ choked cry as Justice fell forward over his body and ran his tongue over the flushed head of his neglected cock. He didn’t – couldn’t – tease for long. The Fade was rocked by the movement of their bodies and the rising tide of their arousal, the air thick and hot as it swirled around them, drawing them closer, binding their desires. Hawke could almost believe he, too, shared their minds – the building storm of their shared desire sank tendrils into his flesh, teasing every nerve and sending heat and pleasure racing across his skin.

Justice looked up at Hawke, his long fingers cupping Anders’ balls as he continued to thrust into his mouth. The view of Anders’ face was obscured by his lean, glowing form – but Hawke could see his firm ass tensing as he fucked down into Anders’ helpless throat. Justice’s lips parted, connected by a faintly glowing strand of drool, and he took Anders’ cock to the base without hesitation, without breaking eye contact, without pause.

 _Fuck –_ it was a thought in absence of a cry, Hawke’s mind emptying with a painfully intense rush of pleasure and frustration at the sight. Anders’ thighs were shaking, needy wails stolen by the wet, harsh sounds of Justice’s length plunging between his lips. Justice’s own groan was muffled by Anders’ length, and Hawke could see the way the base twitched and pulsed against Justice’s lips as the spirit worked his way up and down the rigid shaft. Hawke knew Justice too well – he knew every move, every flicker of expression across his face. He could almost feel the teasing scrape of teeth, the tiny bursts of sparks against oversensitive flesh – and Anders’ shaky whimper confirmed it, _Maker,_ that sounded good – and when Justice took him deep and groaned around him, the memory of that tight, humming throat was almost enough to make him come untouched.

They shifted – just a little, writhing, thrusting bodies twisting as they rocked and sucked and moaned together – and as Justice eased to the side, Hawke caught sight of Anders’ face. His eyes were closed, his neck taut and straining, and Justice’s fist tugged harshly at his hair every time he thrust down into the hot, wet circle of his lips. He seemed to feel Hawke’s stare, and opened his eyes slowly, lids heavy, and groaned eagerly. Hawke panted raggedly through his nose – both men’s eyes were locked on him, so different in such strikingly similar faces, as matched thick, spit-slicked cocks drove between mirrored lips. Identical bodies that could not have been more different – and Hawke knew everything about them both. He knew the tremor in Anders’ thighs, the jerky stutter of Justice’s thrusts, and the way they clung to each other, nails in flesh and urgent, shaky cries. They were close, sparks dancing around their fingers, cocks twitching and backs arching and _– there_.

Justice roared around Anders’ pulsing length, lips wrapped tight around the shaft as his shoulders shook and his hips jerked. Anders rough cry came only a moment later, and he wrapped his arm around Justice’s waist to pull him closer, clinging to him as he thrust up between his lips. Hawke’s breath caught as he saw the first thick smear of Anders’ come breach Justice’s lips, trailing thickly over Anders’ length and smearing across Justice’s jaw as he moaned and sucked, cheeks hollowing as he drew a last shaky moan from the quivering mage.

Hawke was only vaguely aware of the sounds he was making through the thick haze of his own desire, all of his senses focused on watching the way his lovers moved together. Justice’s hand drifted to grip Anders’ ass, while Anders gently stroked his back, kneading the muscles of his shoulders before resuming his caress. They eased against each other, pulling each other close as they licked and sucked – slow now, steady and sated, but still moaning faintly at every swipe of tongue and drag of lips.

“Nngh…” Hawke tugged at the chains, and Justice glanced up at the rattling clank. “Mmph – _nn_ …”

“We have neglected Garrett,” Justice growled, as Anders’ cock slid free of his lips. Anders reluctantly pulled away, rising to his knees.

“Can’t have that.” Anders grinned, and caught Justice’s hip before he could rise. “No rush, though.”

Hawke keened desperately, but Justice’s attention had been caught. Anders kissed him hard, one hand tangling in the spirit’s hair as he arched his lithe body against Justice’s glowing chest. Justice kneaded his ass, locked gazes with Hawke and slowly, deliberately, spread the firm cheeks. Anders’ exposed entrance twitched as Justice moaned into his mouth, and Hawke saw the slow descent of mingled fluids spilling from between their crush of lips.

If he could have spoken, Hawke would have begged for mercy, for touch, for anything at all – or for more of this. Justice growled against Anders’ lips and his tongue darted free to lick up the thick trail, then plunged back into Anders’ mouth to share their combined taste once more. Anders eager moan came with a rake of nails down Justice’s back, and in a sudden flare of brilliant blue, Justice released Anders’ ass and pinned his wrists against the small of his back.

“Obey,” he growled.

“Can never – keep that up for long,” Anders panted. His defiant smirk shot straight to Hawke’s cock, and his needy moan drew Justice’s attention again.

“Do you wish to climax, mortal?”

Hawke’s muffled whine was all the answer Justice needed. He released Anders’ wrists, and Hawke felt the tightening in the fabric of the Fade as Anders’ and Justice’s minds tangled, surged together, and eased apart once more. In his own world, their silent, instinctive communication was undetectable – here, he could feel the intensity of it, the closeness. They stood, and paced towards him – the same cant to their hips, the same intensity in their stare. Anders would submit to him, but tonight he obeyed only Justice – and Hawke was in chains.

Anders moved behind him, his breath hot on Hawke’s neck, his hands _everywhere._ They stroked and plucked at his nipples until he moaned, ran blunt nails over his waist and hips, groped his ass and gripped his thighs. Hawke was shaking in seconds, arching back against Anders’ chest and Anders mouthed at his neck – lips and teeth and tongue dragging Hawke to incoherence and holding him there, straining at the chains as Justice knelt at his feet.

“Never seen you like this,” Anders said hoarsely. “Maker, love, you’re desperate aren’t you?”

Hawke moaned – far beyond caring about dignity or restraint. Agony flared in his wrists as he tugged at the chains, matched by the sudden, achingly sweet burst of sparks across his skin from Anders’ hands.

“That’s it,” Anders murmured, as Hawke whimpered and twisted. “You going to come for us, love?”

“Nngh…” Hawke’s moan became a stream of harsh pants as Justice dragged his tongue up the underside of his cock, blue eyes blazing between dark lashes as he looked up at Hawke.

“He needs more,” Justice growled, the vibration making Hawke’s aching length jerk against his lips.

“No, he doesn’t.” Anders chuckled, and tugged hard at Hawke’s hair. “He just needs to try harder.”

Hawke keened desperately, hips jerking as he bucked against Justice’s lips – but Justice gave him so little, just soft brushes of lips and occasional sweeps of hot, wet tongue that hit like a lightning strike. Every nerve burned, Hawke felt frayed raw, overloaded as he trembled and thrust and whined.

“Come,” Anders groaned against his neck, and electricity snapped against Hawke’s chest. “ _Come._ ” An ice-cold hand pressed against his thigh, spilling tendrils of frost over his skin.

“Show me,” Justice growled. He dragged his tongue up slowly from the base, almost to the tip – hesitated, then descended again, paying no heed to Hawke’s broken moan.

“Stubborn.” Anders nipped his ear – and Hawke’s mind filled with a thousand ways he’d have his revenge the next time it was _Anders_ bound and begging. “Maybe he doesn’t want to?”

Hawke’s indignant _mmph_ was ignored, as Justice mouthed wetly at his balls, then – agonizingly slowly – drew one into his mouth. His gentle sucks and slow, steady licks made Hawke’s stomach clench, the hot tension within him tightening until it _hurt –_ but it wasn’t enough. Anders’ fingers found his nipples, and the shower of sparks that danced over his flesh made him yelp and arch.

“There,” Anders purred. He bit Hawke’s neck hard, a stinging ache that only added to the rapid build of Hawke’s pleasure. “You like that?”

“Mm,” Hawke moaned.

“Show me.” Anders’ voice dropped to a whisper, breathy and filthy, coiling into his mind and sending another rush of tingling, urgent pleasure racing down his spine. “Show me how much you _like_ it.”

“Obey,” Justice growled, lips brushing over his thigh. His hands joined Anders’ on Hawke’s body, sliding up thick, trembling thighs to grip his ass bruisingly tight. “I wish to taste you.”

Justice’s mouth looked so inviting – lips gently parted, smeared with his faintly glowing saliva and the remains of Anders’ seed. Hawke whimpered and thrust, but Justice drew back, the faintest hint of amusement flickering across his face. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips and slowly – _so_ slowly – leaned forward to brush the tip of his tongue over the leaking head of Hawke’s cock.

As Justice’s tongue met his flesh, Anders shocked him again – no sweet, playful sparks. This felt like the lash of a whip, searing through him, lighting his nerves on fire and leaving him shaken to the core. Hawke howled against the gag, thrashed in his chains, and through it all, Justice kept the slow, teasing swirl of his tongue against his cock.

Hawke shattered.

He came – finally – sobbing as he slumped in his chains, boneless in Anders’ arms. His cock pulsed, jerking against Justice’s lips as he spilled in thick, sticky spurts over his tongue. Anders’ groan against his ear mirrored Justice’s low, pleased hum, and Hawke’s breath caught as Justice swept his finger through the descending trail on his chin and sucked it clean.

Anders began to unlock his chains, but Justice dismissed them with a wave along with the gag, and caught Hawke as he collapsed, pulling him into his lap. Hawke kissed him eagerly – messily – moaning into his open mouth as Justice’s tongue darted between his lips, the bitter salt of his and Anders’ mingled fluids leaving Hawke gasping as he pressed forward eagerly for more. Justice gripped his hips, and Anders knelt behind him, wrapping slender arms around his waist to press a trail of kisses down the back of his neck.

“You two are…” Hawke gasped. His lips ached from the pressure of the gag, and as he pulled back Justice lunged forward and nipped at the bruised flesh, making Hawke whimper.

“Cruel?” Anders supplied.

“Exactly what you needed?” Justice growled, and Hawke could have sworn he saw his eyebrow quirk.

“I was going to say _frustrating,_ ” he laughed.

“Then – why don’t we…” Anders knelt up, and Hawke felt the unmistakable press of his cock against his lower back.

“…make it up to you?” Justice finished, one hand drifting up to tangle in Hawke’s hair.

Hawke smirked as Justice’s lips met his again, soft and damp and eager, their groans and growls mingling as Anders’ fingers slipped into the cleft of his ass. There were hours to go before their waking bodies would draw them home – and they would not waste a moment. 


	12. Anders/Justice - Writhe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to find a prompt to fill on the DA Kink Meme this morning, and stumbled across an anon justanders shipper. What a good day! 
> 
> Original prompt: Anders/Justice, accidental orgasms  
> After leaving Kristoff's and entering Anders's, Justice has to 'settle', which involves a lot of what feels like squirming inside Anders. Anders... likes it. A lot.
> 
> It's not _quite_ as accidental as the prompt asked for because I was wary about running into any consent issues, but the OP was happy :P Mild BDSM (mostly just implied/referenced) in this one!
> 
> Now with [art](http://felixbug.tumblr.com/post/128088888229/mevima-justiceanders-alone-time-i-was-very) by mevima!

Anders ran.

Or they ran – Justice, and his host. Who was who and where each of them ended still left Anders’ – their – head aching if he thought too hard. His mind was a storm of sensations – each one both familiar and deeply, frighteningly alien as the two halves of him tried to reconcile their memories – and as for his body… well, it was not simply _his_ body any more. He ached – Maker, how long had it been since he’d rested? He wasn’t sure how much he’d eaten or drunk – Justice seemed prone to forget, and with this fire and fury burning in him, Anders wasn’t sure how much he _cared._ But he was strong. He felt as if he could run forever, fight forever – his magic flowed through him at a thought, and the demons that scrabbled at his mind from across the Veil shrank back in fear. He was guarded, marked – _claimed_.

The thought sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, mirrored by an answering ripple of blue through his skin. Anders focused on running, on his roughened, steady breaths and the pounding of his booted feet on the dirt track. There was dried blood on his skin, the feathered pauldrons of his robe were tattered, and the robes themselves were in even worse disrepair. He’d focus on that – on the ache in his thighs, the rasp in his breath, the bitter taste of the Fade at the back of his tongue and the flickers of heat through his veins as Justice…

 _No_. He wouldn’t focus on that. Absolutely not.

Justice squirmed beneath his skin again, and Anders slowed to a walk, running fingers through sweat-damp hair. Justice hadn’t stopped his infernal wriggling in two days, and it was becoming hard to ignore. Anders could feel him in every inch of his body – writhing and twisting beneath the skin, burning with spirit fire through his nerves and coiling down his spine. He felt Justice tighten in his gut, wrap around his heart, and his essence curled and danced higher and higher until Anders gasped at the prickling wave of pleasure that brushed over his scalp. He knew Justice wasn’t _trying_ to turn him on. Maker, he probably wasn’t even moving on purpose. Two days in a living host, Anders knew they both had to expect some complications. Settling in difficulties – compromises and adjustments. But when Justice burrowed into his mind once more, a curious hum flickering through Anders’ thoughts, the sudden flare of heat became impossible to deny.

He tried shut the thoughts down fast – Justice wouldn’t want to be thought of that way. They’d joined for the cause of mages, not to indulge Anders’ desires. Justice was above all that, Justice was a spirit, a pure ideal, he was…

He was listening to all this, wasn’t he?

“Sorry,” he said aloud. “Mortals are disgusting – you might have noticed.”

He didn’t hear anything from Justice in response – he hadn’t in two days. He wasn’t sure if Justice even could speak to him anymore. They’d killed together, run together, and their minds had bled into one in the gore and chaos until Anders was no longer sure whether his thoughts were _his_ or Justice’s. But he was still a man – still the man he’d always been with desires that burned brightest when he was on his knees, or bent over the edge of the bed with his thighs shoved apart and teeth catching his ear or biting down hard on his shoulder. And when Justice moved inside him again, quickening his breath and pooling like liquid flame in the pit of his stomach, Anders felt that same burn. He had submitted to Justice more completely than he had ever submitted before – he was more than dominated, he was _possessed._ And Maker help him, he’d tried not to think of it like that, but when Justice slithered beneath his skin again and the heat in his belly coiled tighter, he couldn’t help it. His body and mind worked against him and Anders was left desperately, achingly hard.

Anders fought to clear his thoughts, and for a moment – just a split second, so brief he was sure he’d imagined it – he caught a glimpse of a memory that was not his own. He was watching himself throw himself down onto his bed at Vigil’s keep, hair lit red-gold in the firelight, eyes flashing warm amber as he glanced up at himself – no, Justice, it had to be – through his lashes. It was the first night they’d talked about this – he remembered it from his own point of view clearly enough – but this was different. There was a longing in the memory, a sharp twist of admiration and devotion that Anders hadn’t expected from Justice’s thoughts. It seared through him for a moment – then was gone, leaving him to his body and the spirit within.

He had to rest. The thought wasn’t quite his, he thought – it was almost impossible to tell, but he could feel concern unlike any he’d ever felt for himself. He climbed over a fence into a farmer’s field – trying to ignore the shudder in his thighs and the throbbing ache in his cock as Justice bucked and shivered beneath his skin, pressed tight against the confines of Anders’ body and mind. There was a barn thirty paces away – and every last one of those paces felt as if it might be more than he could manage. Exhaustion pulled at him from one side, the flickering burn of Justice from the other, and Anders’ body was stripped down to its most urgent needs. He was panting by the time he reached the door, fingers shaking as it closed behind him, and Anders slumped to his knees with a groan as Justice surged through his flesh once more. Every movement was everything at once – hands on his hips, on his thighs, wrapped around his throat. Nails raked down his back in his mind and he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the sting, or if it was Justice clawing to get loose – but he’d take it either way. He bit down hard on his lip and balled his hands into fists – he’d corrupted Justice enough, he could ignore this.

“Justice can you…” he gasped, and threw his head back, leaning against the door as his eyes fell closed. He focused on the warm scent of the hay bales, the chilly touch of the wind hissing around the door, and tried not to feel Justice’s curious nudge at his thoughts or the rapid build of electric tingling racing down his spine. “If you don’t hold still I think I’m – Maker, it feels so good – I can’t…” He groaned and his hips jerked, his cock brushing against the inside of his robes. He almost whimpered at the sensation – the silky fabric whispering over the slick, sensitive tip, and clinging to the wetness that gathered there. “P-please, tell me you understand – you know what you’re doing..?”

Justice was silent – but Anders felt for his mind, and the thought that slipped between them hummed and fluttered with reassurance, with curiosity, and with an alien feeling arousal that Anders knew was not his own. This was not intended – but Justice was as swept up as Anders in the spark he’d ignited between them. Blue whispered through Anders’ veins, the bitter lightning taste of the Fade built on his tongue until his teeth ached, and when Justice twisted again, Anders moaned his name.

He arched his back, thighs straining, hips rocking as he thrust against nothing. He couldn’t think of anything else, not anymore, and Justice’s presence was a roar within his mind as they both writhed together. The prickling across his scalp felt like a lover’s breath, the spirit fire in his veins left him flushed and panting, and Anders broke. He pulled his tattered robe up around his hips, hissing between his teeth as the cold air hit his flushed, glistening length. He raked his nails up his thigh, and felt Justice squirm under his – their – touch, fluttering beneath his skin.

His hand slid higher, higher, and Justice’s mind sank into his self-control, into his inhibitions, into every ounce of guilt the Circle had poured into him. He gave Anders permission to forget it all – to let go. He penetrated Anders’ mind with a snarl, and Anders shattered – nails digging into his thigh as his cock pulsed and jerked, the thick streaks of his come hitting the crumpled fabric of his robe.

“ _Fuck.”_ Anders moaned. He could feel Justice quivering under the rush of pleasure, and the spirit’s spill of need and affection and raw, scalding desire flooded Anders’ senses as his cock twitched again, dripping between his spread thighs. Anders’ hips bucked and his chest heaved, every breath was a hoarse gasp, and when the rush of his climax finally released him, he felt more than spent – he felt drained.

He – or perhaps they – bedded down in hay that night, listening to the wind howl around the barn. Justice didn’t stop his squirming – Anders felt him shifting and flickering through his skin as sleep finally, blissfully reached him. But there was no discomfort in it – not anymore. Every twist of Justice’s essence beneath his skin felt like curiosity – like exploration. And as consciousness faded, Anders felt a brush of something warm and soft against his mind that could only be affection.

***

Sleep was new. Sleep was unwelcome.

Justice tossed and turned inside his mortal body – _Anders’_ mortal body, he reminded himself – and resisted the urge to wake him. He could, he realised. With Anders asleep, he had slipped into almost full control of his body, skin cracked blue and aching muscles responding to his will. He flexed one hand with a curious hum, and cautiously opened his eyes to look up at the high roof of the barn. It was lit only in the blue light from his skin, and a pale shaft of moonlight that passed through a hole in the roof. The mortal world was filled with beauty, but there was nothing exceptional here. He had seen enough, and the cause would not wait.

But Anders was exhausted. He understood little of rest, but he knew Anders required much of it. He thought of his complaints on long marches with the Wardens – of the way he yawned when he and Justice argued long into the night. He remembered how those arguments had turned into discussions, and Anders’ eventual admission – with eyes heavy and shadowed with exhaustion – that he agreed. That he’d always agreed. That he cared about more than his own freedom, but thinking about it was just so tiring when there was no hope. Justice hadn’t had much to offer – had wanted things he couldn’t quite name, things that stirred in his mind when Kristoff’s memories of Aura bled into thoughts of Anders, and tangled into a sweet ache he couldn’t remember how he’d learned to feel. But he could offer this. He could offer hope of freedom – of change.

And now – Anders offered something new in return. Justice picked through the recent memories, holding his body still even as he still twisted beneath the skin. Sensations were overwhelming – everything from the brush of fabric to the prick of hay against his skin left him squirming. Some sensations were pleasant, others were not, but all were beyond what he could process. In the last two days he had experienced blinding pain, and pleasure so intense he could barely think. It was overwhelming and terrifying – but he wanted more. He remembered Anders’ caution, his certainty that he was taking something more than what was offered. It had not been intended but it had been far from unwanted – the heat building in them both, between them both, and the ache of Anders’ thoughts mingling with Justice’s own as desire sparked between them. Anders wanted him – tried to hide it, even as he came whimpering under Justice’s touch. It was not something Justice had ever expected, or quite knew how to respond to – but it was as welcome to him as his shifting and writhing was to Anders. This was strange and new and complicated – but it felt right, and Justice wriggled happily inside his host as he felt the warm haze of Anders’ dreams flit through his consciousness.

Another warm pulse ran through him – and another. Anders’ dreams were hidden to him across the Veil, but he could feel Anders’ mind stirring, and the sharp twinge of pleasure that raced through their body as Anders’ dreams turned heated. Justice shivered as his host’s lips parted and back arched, and he wasn’t sure which of them moaned quietly. He could feel everything – and feel Anders feeling it. His nipples hardened, and every breath dragged the torn fabric of his robe over the stiff peaks and his flushed chest. His thighs tensed until they shuddered, and his hips rocked. Justice felt the teasing drag of fabric against his hardening length, and when Anders moaned again Justice’s low rumble was mixed in with it, becoming a snarl as Anders’ mind began to wake, bringing with it conscious thought.

The last remnants of the dream flooded through Justice as Anders gasped awake, and Justice was left panting with him. They flickered in faint blue as their body writhed and Justice coiled within it, chasing every last memory that slid from Anders’ mind. He saw Anders on his knees, glowing gauntleted fists clenched in his hair, and a cock made of glowing light thrust between the mage’s spit-slick lips. Anders’ face was flushed, his wrists bound behind his back, and he whimpered as the Justice in his dreams thrust into his throat with a groan. The image faded, followed by a scattering of half-forgotten thoughts. Anders on his back with his thighs against his chest, biting his lip and keening as Justice pounded into him. Anders pinned against the wall with his hands above his head, sobbing as Justice’s armoured hand spanked the firm curve of his ass and the backs of his trembling thighs. And finally – a frozen moment that Justice clung to desperately as Anders’ waking dissolved it – Anders had dreamed of kissing him. A face that was not quite Kristoff’s, not quite Anders’, but something of them both lit in gleaming blue as their lips met and Anders’ naked body writhed beneath the armoured bulk of Justice. Justice could almost feel the soft heat of Anders’ lips on his, could almost taste the ragged moans he drew from him with every drag of teeth and flick of tongue, and then it was gone. They were one body, not two – and they were both straining with need.

“Fuck me,” Anders gasped. “That’s – Maker, Justice, that’s how it feels – keep moving like that…”

Justice hadn’t even realised he was moving – but he felt it when Anders spoke. He pulsed inside him like a second heartbeat, pouring himself into every inch of Anders’ body, twisting and shuddering as every twitch of Anders’ cock and every heated thought dragged white-hot desire through him. He focused on the centre of Anders’ pleasure, the low, steady build of heat inside him, and pressed against it curiously. Anders bit down on his fist to hold back a scream, thighs parting as he threw back his head and whimpered against his hand.

Justice chased every spark of new sensation – from the curl in Anders’ toes up over shaking thighs, tracing paths of raw pleasure with tendrils of his essence that left Anders squirming. He felt the urgent throb in Anders’ untouched shaft, the clench of his stomach and the ragged breaths driving the quick rise and fall of his chest. He hummed up his spine and sparked through his veins, and the burst of pain in his hand as Anders bit down on another choked moan was as sweet as any pleasure he had discovered so far. He rose into Anders’ lips, a static hum on the sensitive flesh that drew a shaky cry from his host. Anders’ other hand gripped his hair, and Justice followed the sharp tugs on his scalp with an eager groan that Anders felt before it spilled loose, muffled against his fist.

He pressed against the confines of Anders’ mortal flesh – tight around him, skin flushed and glistening with sweat. Sensation raced between them like lightning – the urgent ache in Anders’ length, the pooling heat inside him, and the coiled tension at the base of his spine. When Anders’ hips rocked again Justice thrust with him, and the groan Anders stifled against his fist was not his, not Justice’s, but _theirs_.

Anders’ grip loosened in his hair and Justice caught the flicker of intent – he’d end this faster, his fist pumping around his cock, and that was _unacceptable._ Justice would not be rushed. He took the hand from him and held it to the ground above his head, and Anders’ desperate keen was matched by a shudder in his mind as he submitted eagerly to Justice’s control. He wondered for a moment if he’d overstepped – misread Anders’ needs – then Anders’ fist fell from his lips to grip the hay on the ground beside him and he whimpered Justice’s name.

“Yes,” he moaned. “Yes – Justice – Maker, don’t stop…”

Anders thrashed and writhed, and Justice eased control into his other hand and pinned it above his head with the first. He felt for discomfort and found none – only utter desperation as Anders bucked his hips and chased every bare hint of friction he could steal from the light weight of his robe. His slick cock dampened the fabric and it clung to the outline of his rigid length, twitching as Justice moved inside him, burned through him, and Anders’ pleas became incoherent cries. He caught flashes of images from Anders’ mind – Anders was imagining Justice’s glowing form between his thighs, one hand pinning his wrists above his head. The other gripped one thigh, and his hips snapped roughly as he slammed into Anders with a snarl.

Justice shuddered under the onslaught of images from Anders’ mind, groaning as another pulse of blue flickered across their skin. Anders’ eyes fell shut, Justice twisted tight inside him, Anders was close – they both were – writhing together as pleasure built. Justice squirmed, and the first white-hot shiver of their climax fluttered through their nerves. Anders whimpered, Justice growled, and their hips jerked helplessly.

“Oh – _fuck._ ” Anders shuddered, and Justice felt the warm spill of his seed coat his twitching length.

“Anders,” Justice groaned, his voice breaking through as their cock pulsed again, and he felt Anders writhe as his voice sank into him, deep and snarling, pinning him as easily as he’d pinned his wrists. Every shift within Anders’ skin sent the deep ache of aftershocks through them both, their breath catching as Justice rode out every last wave of pleasure, and Anders was tugged along with him.

Eventually, their breath slowed. Justice released Anders’ hands, and the balance between them shifted until Anders’ body was wholly his again – as much as it ever could be with Justice curled up inside him. He cleaned himself up as best as he could, and flopped back into the hay with a contented sigh. His mind reached for Justice’s, and Justice responded with a warm glow of affection as he coiled around Anders’ thoughts. They had fled the Wardens, locked on a cause that could take a lifetime – or longer – to achieve. But they were not alone. For the first time, Justice found himself totally at ease in Anders’ body, and fell still. 


	13. Hawke/Reader - Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warm-up ficlet, haven't done one of these in a while! I couldn't stop thinking about Hawke's dick for two days straight so I wrote something self-indulgent. Sorry not sorry :P Unedited, 40mins timed writing, utter trash.

You can be patient – Maker, it’s not the first time he’s teased. Not the first time you’ve ended up stripped and kneeling with your wrists bound tight at the small of your back. The ache between your thighs is hard to ignore, but you will for _him._ Hawke’s voice is deep and dark, rough gravel that sends a shiver down your spine as his fingers skim through your hair.

“You want something?”

There’s a chuckle in his voice, barely held back as you look up at him desperately, your eyes wide. His shirt is crumpled on the floor behind him and you take in the broad bulk of his chest – and the thick, dark hair that you can just imagine coarse against your hands. You watch a bead of sweat dip between his collarbones and ache to chase it with your tongue, your eyes follow the bob of his throat as he swallows and you can’t shake the thought of your lips against his neck as his hand slips between your legs and his cock grinds against your thigh. You need so much more than he’s offering, and he knows it.

“See something you like?”

His hands trail over his chest and you follow them with a hungry moan. His skin is tanned and smooth, and his shoulders tense, his biceps twitch, as his hands slide lower. One pauses on his hip, fingertips digging into the slightly softer flesh there, while the other trails up and down the slight softness of his belly. The hair beneath his naval is thicker, rougher, and his fingers card through it as he groans your name and bites his full lower lip. Maker, he’s _big_ – it’s more noticeable ever here on your knees. The way he towers above you, the strong thickness of his thighs as he widens his stance, and the sculpted bulk of his shoulders and chest. And – you lick your lips as your gaze drifts lower – the bulge beneath his palm as his hand slides lower, stroking himself through his trousers.

You’d beg if it was allowed – you want those strong hands clenched in your hair as he thrusts between your lips, or gripping your hips as he grinds against your ass, panting raggedly and nipping at your shoulder. But you know Hawke, and you know how begging only drags this out. You bite your lip – imagine it’s him – and hold your tongue.

“You’re doing so well,” he growls. His fingers slowly loosen the laces of his trousers, and every whisper of cord on cloth is torture. “You’ve earned a reward.”

He steps closer – close enough that you can easily hear every roughened breath and smell the warm, familiar scent of him. There’s the sharpness of sweat, the deeper musk of leather, and just a hint of blood. His trousers slip loosely off his hips and you almost whimper as the thick base of his cock is revealed, surrounded by black curls and the teasing splay of Hawke’s fingers. He stands over you, one foot on each side of your parted thighs, and you can’t help but rock your hips against nothing, panting harshly as Hawke slips the tips of his fingers just below his waistband.

“ _Please_ ,” you gasp – and Maker help you, you’ve provoked him now. His smirk becomes a wicked grin, and his free hand tangles in your hair, twisting your head back. Your face is upturned, your breath is quick and catching, and you can’t hold back a whine as he tugs sharply at your hair.

“I love it when you beg,” he says hoarsely. It’s a strain to watch him, but you’re helpless not to – his trousers slip down to catch around his thighs, and you hear the groan he bites back as he wraps his hand around his length. “Even when you’re – ugh, _fuck_ – not allowed to.”

Your eyes dart from his face to his cock – torn as every jerk of his fist and eager buck of his hips sends heat prickling down your spine and pooling deep inside you. His lips are parted, damp and gasping as his chest heaves and his breath catches. His eyelids are heavy, dark gold eyes fixed on yours as he runs his tongue over his lower lip and gives a rasping, ragged growl. You skim your gaze down over him – the beading sweat on his chest, the rhythmic clench of his thick bicep as he fucks his fist, the straining tendons in his wrist and – Maker, _yes –_ the impressive girth of his shaft enclosed by his palm.

His thumb sweeps over the head, smearing the beaded fluid across the flushed skin. It glistens in the firelight, throbbing against his palm, and you want nothing more than to stretch your lips around it and take him deep into your throat. You want to taste him – need to taste him – but the fist in your hair allows you no more than this. You are permitted to watch, so you do – eyes fixed on him as his fingers tease and stroke, wrap tight around him and pump urgently, and Hawke’s roughened breaths become low grunts.

“Fuck,” he growls. His grip shifts from your hair to your jaw, and your lips part obediently for him as his thumb sweeps across them. It’s calloused against your tongue, and tastes of salt and the leather of the gloves he wears. You draw it between your teeth, rasping the knuckles, and his groan of your name is almost a snarl.

He works his cock faster – hips jerking as he fucks his hand and the filthy, urgent sounds spilling from his lips become louder. His thick length twitches in his hand – he’s close, you can hear it in every grunt and moan and breath, can see it in the way his muscular thighs shake and his stomach clenches. You think it’d take barely more than a touch to take you right there with him – your skin feels hot and tight, and the heat and raw, aching tension building between your thighs leaves your breath shaking. You clench your fists, straining against the ropes, trying to hold back from moaning wantonly as a glistening bead of pre-come drips from Hawke’s cock and falls across your lips. The shallow thrusts of his thumb drag it onto your tongue and that does it – you keen against his skin, lapping eagerly at the burst of salt, and his fingertips dig into your jaw.

“Watch,” he gasps, and you do – Maker, you couldn’t look away if you tried.

He releases your jaw, and you whimper at the loss. He’s left your lips drool-streaked, and your chin’s wet – he’s barely begun and you’re already beautifully used. You can just imagine how you look – panting and dripping, moaning beneath him as he cups his balls and rolls them gently in his palm. His head’s thrown back – you miss the eye-contact but it’s _good_ to see him lose himself like this, chest heaving as another sticky strand of pre-come catches on his fingers and is smeared over his flushed, rigid length. He can’t last much longer and you can see him holding back – even as he strokes and kneads his heavy balls, coarse hair between his thick fingers, and his cock pulses in his grip.

“Open – your mouth,” he grunts, as if you’d closed it, as if you ever _would._ He looks down at you – eyes wide, upper lip curled in a snarl, and the roar of your name is the hottest sound you’ve dragged from him yet. You allow yourself one last look – his massive girth throbbing in his fist, the dark hair scattered over his twitching thighs, the way his face contorts and his shoulders shudder – then you close your eyes and he spills is thick, hot seed over your flushed skin.

You can taste him – a bitter flood of salt and heat that clings to your lips and coats your tongue as you groan eagerly. Another spurt coats your cheek, and he’s grunting, panting, not done yet – you can hear the wet, obscene sounds of flesh on flesh as he strokes himself through his climax, and a final splash hits your chest, dripping over your heated skin. You must look _filthy –_ drenched in come, moaning softly as your tongue sweeps over your lips and Hawke’s shaking hand cups your cheek. He sweeps the sticky fluid into your mouth, and your moan is stifled against his fingers as you draw them deep and swallow every drop.

“Your turn,” he whispers – and you’ve never wanted anything more.

 


	14. Loghain/Maric - Shut Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set early in The Stolen Throne, little to no plot, still working out my headcanons for these two so have some not-as-casual-as-they-want-to-pretend-it-is facefucking c:

Loghain doesn’t want to talk about it.

Maker, he doesn’t even want to _think._ That was the point of this – no more of Maric’s endless chatter. No more guilt, no more conflict in his mind – this is simple, meaningless, and silent. It’s near dark and Maric’s skin is lit by the last red rays of the sun filtering through the trees, and the low gold flickering of the firelight. His skin is pale – unhealthily so, Loghain knows he’s struggling out here and doesn’t want to _care_ even though he knows by now that he does _–_ and his golden hair is tangled and greasy where it’s balled up in Loghain’s fist.

Maric wets his lips – a quick pink flash of tongue Loghain watches intently, and his eyes dart from Loghain’s cock up to his face. He licks his lips again, and this time Loghain can’t hold back the rough snarl that claws up his throat, or help himself when he indulges in a slow, teasing stroke of his length. He’s painfully hard, and a drop of pre-come smears against his fingers when he sweeps them over the tip.

“Are we doing this?” Maric asks. Loghain isn’t sure if he’s looking for a _yes_ or a _no_ – there’s hesitation in his voice, but hunger too, and he moans helplessly as Loghain twists his fingers in his hair. He nods brusquely, pauses a moment to give Maric the chance to back down – then presses the head of his cock against the prince’s lower lip.

“Ye– mmph…” Maric’s voice is muffled as Loghain thrusts forward. It’s sharper than he intended – but Maker, it’s been a while, and the soft wet heat drains him of all thought. He pauses when Maric gags, but an encouraging scrabble of fingers at the backs of his thighs drives him forward again, and this time all he hears is a long, loud moan.

Maric’s voice vibrates in his cock – his tongue doesn’t stop _fucking moving_ even now, he thinks, then takes a sharp breath as Maric’s throat hums around him. He jerks back with a grunt, spilling trickles of saliva over Maric’s chin as his thick shaft drags between his lips. Loghain can hear the plea in Maric’s whimper, and thrusts back forward with a rasping breath, sliding his second hand into Maric’s hair.

“Nn…” Maric’s eyes flutter closed, a pretty pink flush rising in his cheeks as his lips slide down Loghain’s drool-slicked length. He moans and whines, and every time the thick head of Loghain’s cock nudges into his throat he gags, blinking back tears and looking up at Loghain eagerly, pleadingly – horribly vulnerable and beautiful and everything Loghain needs him _not_ to be. Maker help him, he didn’t mean to get this close to him. He throws back his head with a harsh grunt, hips jerking forward until his balls slap against Maric’s chin.

They’ve barely started and there’s a tingling racing down his spine, a weak shudder in his thighs and a sweet, hot ache building low in his gut. He’s needed this – doesn’t think he could hold back if he tried – and every loud, choking cry brings him closer and closer. There’s heat in his skin, fire in his nerves, and his fingers shake as he clenches his fists in the prince’s golden hair and his hips buck quick and sharp, driving his thick girth between stretched, wet lips.

“Mmm – ngh…” Maric’s cries are needy – even unable to speak, he’s all questions and demands, forcing Loghain to _think_ when all he wants to do is come. He twists sharply, pulls back, and his cock drags across Maric’s cheek smearing strings of saliva and pre-come across his flushed skin.

“Shut – up.” He’s breathless, and catches the smug glint in Maric’s eye even as his chest heaves and his eyes water. Loghain tugs hard at his hair and Maric keens, biting his lip to hold back his moans.

“Make me,” he gasps – and Loghain’s lost, he knows it. The things that voice _does_ to him – the temptation of his rightful king kneeling in the dirt, drool-streaked and submissive, begging to be fucked. It degrades them both to act like this – half-clothed and filthy, grunting and panting like wild beasts as Loghain drives his cock between Maric’s lips again. The prince deserves better – but he wants Loghain, and for reasons he doesn’t yet understand, Loghain wants him. He closes his eyes and grunts with every thrust, trying not to think about the look on Maric’s face when he sleeps, about the way he pushes forward even when he stumbles with exhaustion, or about his constant, infuriating, inane, hopelessly endearing _talking._

“Shut up,” he snarls, cock throbbing in the prince’s tight, slick throat. “Shut _up._ ”

Maric swallows a moan. He takes quick, sharp breaths every time Loghain pulls back, and stifles his whines as Loghain thrusts between his lips. Loghain holds him steady – a hand in his hair, the other gripping his cheek. He feels the wet trickle of tears against his fingers as Maric chokes and splutters and his eyes water, he feels the warm spill of saliva from stretched, reddened lips, and he can’t resist opening his eyes to look down at Maric’s face as his cock twitches and pulses in the tight, hot clench of his throat.

“Swallow,” he pants, forcing Maric’s head back further. Another harsh grunt under his breath, and his nails dig into Maric’s cheek. He looks well used – lips swollen, hair wild, eyes wide as his damp lashes flutter and another shuddering gag forces another spill of drool over his chin. Loghain thrusts, and he watches his length sliding between stretched, glistening lips. His lip curls, his thighs twitch, and the thud of his pulse in his ears becomes a roar as he pushes deep into Maric’s spasming throat and spills into him with a roughened cry.

It’s better than it has any right to be – sweet, scalding waves of pleasure racing through him as Maric’s tongue works his twitching length and he swallows around him. Everything is clenching, liquid heat – lips and tongue and throat working every inch of him as the tight twist of tension in his gut flows through him, burning in his blood and rasping in his lungs. He won’t give Maric the satisfaction of a moan, restraining himself to a low, filthy grunt as he bucks his hips once more and shivers through the final aftershock. He tugs Maric off his cock, and a single trickle of his seed descends over the prince’s soaked chin.

Maric lasts no longer than Loghain – he whimpers and yelps against his neck, straddling his lap with trembling thighs as Loghain works his cock with one hand and plunges two thick, strong fingers into his tight entrance with the other. Loghain bites Maric’s neck when he comes – muffling his own moan at the hot splash of seed across his chest, refusing to indulge in watching Maric’s face as his pleasure strips him bare and leaves him shuddering against Loghain’s body. They don’t talk as Maric sucks his own fluids from Loghain’s fingers, or as they dress, shooting quick half-glances at each other across the fire. There’s nothing to say – they both know this changes everything, _should_ change nothing. Loghain should leave tonight, as he’s intended to since this – whatever _this_ is – began.

He doesn’t. They don’t talk about it, but he stays.


	15. Hawke/Anders - Intensity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this in a day, mostly on my breaks at work. Some time in act 3, bittersweet rough sex. Contains spitting and face-slapping.

Anders shudders, fingers twisting in the sweat-damp sheets. The bed slams against the wall, Darktown dust showering down from the beams above, and Hawke's fingers tighten on his hips. 

"Ugh - _fuck_..." Hawke's voice is a rasp, hoarse and urgent. 

He tugs sharply, dragging Anders to the base of his cock, and it's all he can do not to scream. They're separated from sleeping patients by only a thin wall - he can't let go, not here. But Hawke's cock is too good, almost overwhelming - thick and hot, pounding into his slicked, stretched hole, and _Maker_ , he can hear it. Obscene wet sounds as every thrust fucks him open, working deeper into him until he's half-sobbing with raw sensation. 

One of Hawke's hands is over his mouth in an instant, crushing his lips and his moans under his palm. He tastes of salt and leather, and Anders lets his whimpers be lost in the solid strength of him as nails bite into his jaw and Hawke hunches over him, panting. 

"Tap my arm if it's too much," he gasps. 

A bead of sweat follows the ripple and curve of Hawke's shoulder as he resumes his thrusts. Anders watches it descend, gleaming in the candlelight over thick muscle as Hawke's biceps shiver and his hot breath whispers against Anders' skin. He's all need tonight - passion and desperation in the snap of his hips and the grip of his calloused palm. The city is sliding into chaos with Hawke and Anders at the centre of it, and this is the closest either of them come to peace. 

Anders keens, and tastes blood as Hawke presses harder on his lips, metallic salt bursting on his tongue as Hawke's low, filthy grunts ring in his ears and his toes curl in the sheets. He drowns in heat and need, panting through his nose, eyes prickling with tears and he doesn't know if it's pain, pleasure, or simply _intensity_ \- but he wants more. 

Hawke falls against him, hand slipping beneath to cup the curve of his ass and grip tight enough to bruise. His thrusts are quick and sharp, wet slaps of sweat and oil drenched skin making Anders' cock throb and breath shudder. He's racing to his peak, choking back a cry as Hawke releases his mouth and grips the headboard, pounding harder, faster, face inches from Anders' own as he slams into him. 

"Harder," Anders hisses, breath between his teeth as he fights to hold back his moans. "Garrett - _yes_ \- Maker..."

He'll beg if he has to - sobbing on the words, pleading under the warrior's bulk - but Hawke sees what he needs, the way he always does. He lives in the same space these days - where he needs to burn his mind clear and every touch, every sensation, doesn't quite flare bright enough. His hand slides from Anders' ass up his body, nails rasping over flushed skin, wicked fingers capturing a nipple and twisting until Anders squeaks. Anders' thighs are hooked over his hips, heels bouncing on the firm curve of his ass as he plunges into him, and Hawke doesn't need his hand on Anders' hip or ass to have him pinned - his weight has him where he wants him, where Anders wants to be. He runs his fingers up the column of his throat, to his jaw, a question in his eyes and the gentleness of his touch as he hesitates. 

"Do it."

Hawke slaps him, and the blow sparks his vision into constellations. Anders' head falls back, the thud of his pulse wild in his ears and undercut by the shrill hum of the impact. Pain blooms red across his cheek, and he barely gasps out a plea for more before Hawke strikes him again. There're tears on his cheek, and the slap rings loud and wet over the slick sound of Hawke's thrusts and the ragged catch of his breath. 

He blinks, lashes wet, vision hazy, and he almost comes right there and then when he hears the harsh sound of Hawke spitting, and feels the scattered wetness of saliva on his face. Rough fingers trail over his cheek, to his lips, blood, sweat, tears and saliva mingling on his tongue as the pads dip between his swollen lips. He sucks on them with a groan, eyes falling closed, and when Hawke spits again the filthiness of it makes him _whimper_. 

"Come for me," Hawke pants. 

He grips Anders' jaw and he opens his eyes - to low light, thin sheets, to Darktown and to _Hawke_. He's perfect even here, lined in candlelight, dripping with sweat, eyes wide and dark and deep. His hand dips between their bodies, curls around Anders' length, and it barely takes more than that. Quick, gentle strokes in contrast to the pounding thrusts and Anders falls. Head tucked against Hawke's shoulder, clinging to him, muffling a shattered cry with his teeth in his shoulder as he writhes and pants through his climax. 

Hawke doesn't take long. He pumps his cock into Anders fast and hard, low groans against his ear as his arms snake around Anders' shuddering, sweat-soaked body. Anders buries his face in his shoulder and gasps through the final thrusts, body oversensitive, spent and aching as his seed cools on his skin and Hawke's spit dries in the stubble on his jaw. Hawke's length twitches inside him, pulses and he feels the hot, slick flood of his come as Hawke forgets himself and moans out loud. 

There's silence afterwards - tangled sheets and a messy entwining of fluid-streaked and flushed skin, neither man quite ready to move. It relieves _something_ neither of them are quite ready to name. Everything is on the edge of changing, and intensity isn't quite enough some nights for either of them to forget how hopeless any cause in Kirkwall is, how helpless they are against what's coming. 

For now, it helps. That night, Anders sleeps in his clinic, as he has for so many nights these last few weeks. But this time, Hawke is with him, clinging to him as if he will never let go. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic]Ficlets from the Sin Pit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4428965) by [Felixbug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug)




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